


The Road To His Soul

by bluejorts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive Father, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, Canon-Typical Violence, I T S J U S T P O R N, M/M, Semi-public masturbation, bc im gonna use it just watch me, i am so sorry just in general, iTS JUST PORN OKAY, is that a tag I can use, self recorded masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:10:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 23,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6052795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejorts/pseuds/bluejorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thirty percent of the world's population have soulmates. Sam's eighteen, he's never even dreamed of being part of that minority - hell, he hasn't even thought about falling in love - but he's not exactly annoyed when his soulmate, Gabriel, comes into play; not when the sex is this good. </p><p>But then of course his Dad has to find out and ruin everything.</p><p>Sabriel soulmate AU, You can feel whenever your soulmate gets injured or laid, and when they kick it, so do you.<br/>Written for the Sabriel Big Bang 2015. Few warnings for John Winchester being abusive and alcoholic and that there is a whole lot of porn in here (like, literally, half of this is porn). Enjoy.</p><p>Thank you to Angel (transmaximoff on tumblr and Angeline_Silver on here) for beta reading this you're my favourite and I love you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One - He Touched My Heart, Well, My Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lETS GO KIDS TIME TO GET SEXY *finger guns* *regret*

The first time it happened he was at home, age eighteen. It was a hot, lazy Saturday; Dean and his Dad were out fishing on some lake for the weekend. But Sam? He'd spent most of the day on the couch watching crap SyFy movies in his underwear. His Dad had been _ ecstatic _ about that choice. He was in the middle of Sharknado 2, almost asleep, when he felt it. The ghost of a hand wrapped around his dick. He gasped as blood began to flow south and jumped up intending to get rid of whatever was touching him up. Looking down, shaking his head first to clear the dizziness; he saw - nothing?

He stared for a few seconds, struck dumb as the feeling continued. He gasped and was forced to sit down quickly as what felt like a thumb rolled over the tip and his knees failed him. He was hard by now, dick trapped against his stomach, stretching the tight fabric of his boxers and creating a patch of wet. A hard pull downwards had him whimpering and stuttering his hips forwards.

"Fuck." He muttered; throwing his head back and breathing deeply through his mouth. "Oh fuck."

The grip was rough but slow, teasing. Another roll over the tip - this time as if with the palm of a hand - made him moan deep in his throat and grab a hold of the blankets on the sofa.

"Shit." He gasped; mindlessly spreading his legs and canting his hips upwards, hands still clutching at the blankets. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

His boxers felt too tight, too restraining, and he unclenched one of his fists from the sofa to yank them down. He whimpered as too cold air hit his too hot dick. Another sharp pull downwards and he was on the edge, letting out a whine and thrusting hard upwards. A finger trailed down to just below his balls and pressed down hard, pushing him over. He came harder than ever before, strings of cum landing on his chest and running down slowly, like hot paint. In that moment he felt someone else with him, coming as he did.

He lay there for a while, coming down from his high, before he realized. He was connected to his soulmate. He had one. It was a guy.

_ Wow. _ He thought mundanely, drunk on the hormones running through his body. 

_ Shit. _ He thought, panic fighting the hormones, this was fucking big.

Sam didn't know much about soulmates. He only knew what he'd been able to find out in leaflets in libraries. It was a taboo subject. People didn't like to talk about it because it was a minority; only around about a quarter of the population had them and everybody else was jealous. There were cases of hate crimes, but since it was practically impossible to tell who had a soulmate unless you saw couples with matching scars, or people that had gained injuries or even broken bones for no reason (he'd heard of bigot doctors refusing to treat those patients, and there was currently no law forcing them to), many of the crimes were against regular people. Sam felt somewhat guilty for that now.

He'd never thought he'd get a soulmate. Didn't think he deserved one. His Dad said it was a bunch of shit, that they were a conspiracy theory. But his Dad said a lot of things and Sam was beginning to doubt all of them. And what he'd thought even less likely was that he'd gain a male soulmate. He'd never really thought that much about his sexuality, and honestly the thought that he might be gay didn't worry him. The thought that his Dad might find out that his son was a gay freak with a soulmate was pretty terrifying, yeah, but he hoped and prayed that that would never happen.

So, Sam knew just the basics. He knew that soulmates had intimate connections and could feel each other during sex (but until now he couldn't figure out just how, and he still had no clue how it worked for heterosexual couples).

He knew that they gained all the injuries of their counterpart.

And he also knew that they died at the same time.


	2. Chapter Two – The Square Route of Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who needs maths when you have a soulmate amirite?

The second time, he was in maths, the lesson was practically over and he was half asleep. A slow stroke upwards on his dick woke him suddenly and he sat up with a jolt, grabbing the teacher's attention. Oh shit.

"Care to answer the question, Sam?" She asked.

"There was no question." Sam responded, attempting to keep his voice steady and failing. "You, uh. You were setting, uh, homework."

"And did you write the homework down?"

Sam nodded, probably for slightly too long and slightly too enthusiastically, but if anybody noticed they didn't mention it - probably because just after he finished talking the bell sounded and they were all rushing to pack their things away. Sam was about to stand up when the slow, steady pulls became a firmer and more sure. If he hadn't been before he was noticeably hard now, which was just fucking  _ ideal _ . He picked his bag up and dumped it hard onto his lap, biting his tongue when it pressed down uncomfortably on his crotch. Obviously, the guy he was connected to (who he refused to call his soulmate until they met, or at least talked) felt it, and the hand wrapped around him whipped away. He shoved his books and stationery into his bag and shoved his way out of the classroom and into the nearest toilet.

Ignoring the weird stains on the floor and the graffiti on the wall, he locked himself in a stall. Nobody used the school toilets anyway, especially not the maths block ones, so he was almost guaranteed privacy. 

He unzipped his fly and freed his dick from its confines, pulling his jeans down slightly. He wrapped his hand around himself and pulled down slowly, a gentle warning to the man on the other side. The responding pull was enthusiastic and brought a breathy laugh to Sam's lips. He continued to jerk them off, slowly, almost gentle. There were hands on his chest, running over his nipples, catching in his navel. His grip became tighter, every time his hand stroked upwards he added a twist and squeeze, pushing. He was breathing heavily, biting down hard on his lip to stop the moans that wanted to escape. It didn't stop the whimper that came when there was suddenly a hand on his balls, then behind them, travelling back, cold and wet. He gasped when a finger pressed down experimentally; his pace stuttered before he pulled back, hard. The finger moved back in surprise, and he chased it, banging into the wall.

"Fuck." He muttered, returning to his pace from before, if slightly faster. The other man returned to what he'd been doing, pinching his nipple. Sam bit harder, suppressing a whine, rolling his thumb over his dick. The finger returned, pressing slowly inside; pushing until it was buried to the knuckle. It pulled out, leaving a dry flash of pain that left Sam gasping in pleasure. Before he could recover it was pushing inside again, and he realized that he'd sped up his pace considerably. He attempted to slow it down, so this wouldn't all end at once, but when a second finger was added to the first he found it impossible. The fingers inside him crooked, searching for something. Apparently they found it, because Sam was gasping, almost falling to the ground. He only stayed upright by bracing one hand against the opposite wall, right above a particularly nice bit of graffiti proclaiming that: 'god hates fags'. He'd deal with that later, but for now he pretended that it was some idiot's attempt at an anti-smoking campaign. He felt a heat in his gut, familiar and building, like the ebb of the tide before a tsunami. His grip tightened and sped up further, sliding his thumb over his slit every time. He felt the push into him become more frantic and grinned. They were so damn close.

The fingers inside him crooked again, pushing down hard. And that was it. Sam came all over the wall of a school toilet stall, classy. As he did, he felt a heart beating as one with his, and heard a breathless, sunny voice:

" _ Hi _ ."

Before he could reply the connection was broken. It could only have lasted a second or so - not even that.

God fucking damn it. He grabbed a large handful of toilet roll and began to clean up his mess. 


	3. Chapter Three – One Hell of an Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't summarise this sin

 

The third time it happened, Sam was the one to initiate it. He'd been attempting to find the connection every night since the last time, but it never worked, and he was left coming alone. But that night was different somehow. He shut his eyes, lay back on the bed, one hand trailing down his stomach, the other tangled in his hair, fingers gently massaging his scalp. The hand trailing down his stomach reached the base of his dick and stopped. He lay there for a second, wondering if he actually had to touch himself before the connection was activated; and then a phantom hand stroked down his cheek. He gasped and chuckled in surprise, reaching up and placing his own hand on the cheek being stroked. The sensation was trippy as balls, but almost as if he were covering another hand with his own - or his hand was being covered with another.

He removed his hand; a headache beginning from trying to work out the feeling. He stroked slowly down his chest. When he reached the base of his dick he took a loose hold of it with his forefinger and thumb. Slowly, he ran them upwards, as hands snaked along his chest. He wrapped the rest of his fingers around himself and began to stroke. He was half hard, getting harder by the second.

The other man had two hands on his ass; trailing down and across his hole, the tip of one finger pressing inside. The hands withdrew themselves and a strange feeling jerked in his stomach. It was as if he were leaning to the side, stretching his arms out above his head, only he wasn't. The feeling disappeared, but his left hand now felt as if it held something cold and solid. Something dug into his thumb, like a flip cap on a bottle, and then there was cool wet dripping onto his right hand fingers. His left hand felt as though it were serving to slick the fingers up, which was likely. All of a sudden the feeling of liquid on his hands near disappeared, as the other hands found their way back to his ass.

His cheeks felt like they were being spread by one hand, while the other traced his hole with a cool, slick finger. The finger dipped and slid straight inside him, pushing deeper. It pulled out of him slowly, just enough to leave a slight burn, and then thrust back in. Sam tightened his grip, pumping steadily, thumb running over the slit with every downward pull.

The one finger inside him became two, thrusting quickly and scissoring as they pulled out, slowly, teasing. Sam tightened his grip on his hair and pulled gently, not sure what the reaction would be on the other side. The fingers crooked, searching out the bundle of nerves, and it hit them. Sam couldn't help it, he pulled sharply on his hair, adding to the pleasure until he was almost seeing stars. The reaction on the other side was unpredictable. The fingers inside him stuttered their exit, and pulled back out fast once the man had recovered. Sam was afraid he'd blown it and paused mid pump. He was so surprised when the fingers thrust back inside that he bucked forwards, making the bed creak.

"Fuck." He whimpered. "Oh God fuck."

His hands jerked back into action without a coherent thought from him; one tugging his hair, the other jerking him off. He bit back a cry when a third finger was added inside him, just brushing his prostate. He tugged hard on his hair in return and rolled his palm over the head of his dick.

A hand ran up his stomach, nails raking lightly over his skin. When it reached his chest it strayed to the left. Just as he was thrust back into; this time hitting his prostate directly, there was a sharp tug on his nipple.

"Fuck." He whined, voice strained.

He flicked his wrist slightly and sped up the pace, adding a gentle tug to his hair. The other man rolled his nipple between his fingers, pinching and pulling on it as he thrust inside them. Every push was hitting their prostate, dragging them to the edge.

Sam groaned, arching his back. He sped up the pace even more; arm beginning to protest. He could feel the pressure building, building. And then - snap.

For a quarter of a moment he lay there, drinking it in. And then he remembered his plan.

" _ Hi I'm Sam. _ " He thought, hurried, and for good reason too; not half a second after he'd done so the connection was gone.

He let out a shaky laugh and reached to the bedside table and the box of tissues upon it, and began to clean himself off.


	4. Chapter Four – Cuddling or Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't fuck with your dad and brother in the car kids

He was in the car with Dean and Dad when he felt the familiar hand trailing down his chest. He panicked, let out an undignified yelp and pressed his hands hard against his crotch.

John nearly swerved into the other lane; Dean's head whipped around at almost supersonic speeds, eyes wide and worried.

"Sammy?" He asked, "You okay."

Sam nodded, "Nightmare." He muttered, face flaming.

"Damn it  _ boy _ ." John spat, "Don't be such a pansy."

Sam sighed; "Yessir." And waved Dean away, so used to his father's disappointment that it barely registered. His brother turned around, taking one last glance before turning his attention back to the road. The other man seemed to realize that he couldn't do anything, but instead of his touch disappearing, his arms wrapped around their waist.

Sam smiled.

It became a regular part of his life after that, usually on a Saturday afternoon; he'd excuse himself to his room and attempt to strike up the connection. Sometimes it would be immediate sex, but occasionally they would lie there for a while, just trying out new ways of holding each other. Sam's favourite of these times was when they lay on their sides and the other man - who'd introduced himself as Gabriel - would wrap his arms around their waist while Sam ran his hands through their hair and over their face.

On occasions when the connection didn't form Sam's mind thought up scenarios. Scenes from when he and Gabriel met.

In his fantasies, Gabriel was shorter than him, but could pin him to the bed with ease. He remained faceless, but somehow moaned and cursed. He was loud and dirty, but gentle when he should be. He was perfect in Sam's mind.

He would blow Sam slowly, teasingly. Kissing and licking him and finally taking him into his mouth bit by bit. And as he'd blow him he'd fuck him with his fingers. Just like he had before. Sam never did that himself, never had the courage or the materials. He wanted to, to find that spot inside himself that had him seeing stars, but really? It made him shiver in the best way that it was only Gabriel that did it.

Sometimes his fantasy Gabriel fucked him properly. He imagined him thrusting into him from behind, one hand in his hair the other on his dick rather than his own, Gabriel making him cum over the bed sheets instead of himself. Sam imagined riding him, he sat up on his knees and jerked himself off wishing Gabriel was underneath him, gripping his hips softly but hard enough to ache just barely as he would grind Sam into himself agonizingly slowly. Or he wished Gabriel on top of him, fucking him and leaning over to kiss him, stomach rubbing against Sam's cock.

He sometimes just imagined Gabriel jerking them off as they kissed. Both their dicks sliding against each other and Gabriel's hand. He imagined them coming together, over each other's chest.

But even though his fantasies were detailed and realistic they were just that, fantasies. And he ached for the real thing, or what he could get from their connection.

And then one day during the afterglow connection, Gabriel told him to write it down. Sam wondered what 'it' would be but didn't have time to ask, so he was left to wait for the next time.

Zero.

That was what Gabriel said; zero. Sam wrote all the same, a piece of paper ripped out of his notebook sat on his bedside table with that promising number until the next time.

Seven.

Then four.

It was a phone number, Sam realized. His stomach rose to his throat whenever he looked at it from then on, his heart skipped a few beats in its panicked excitement.


	5. Chapter Five – Wait How Many Fingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the title fucking says it i'm a dirty sinner

It was a lazy Saturday when it all ended, like the one it had begun on. Dean was out with friends and Dad had been called into work. He was alone and nervous as hell.

Gabriel patted their head, a gesture they had decided was a way of asking for consent before initiating. Sam drew a slow tick on their stomach and trailed his hand down their chest. He took in a breath and felt a smirk come to his cheeks as his fingers surpassed his dick and trailed straight down to his ass. Taking a deep breath and pulling a small bottle from under his pillow, he prepared himself.

The lube was somewhat warm as he drizzled it onto his fingers. It was kind of a weird feeling, seeing as he could feel both his hands and Gabriel's. As he did this Gabriel grabbed their dick with enthusiasm even tangible through this. Sam laughed out loud at that and kissed the back of his left hand; the one holding the lube bottle. He replaced said bottle under the pillow and tried to slow his breathing. He'd never done this before; hadn't had any lube before, and most of the time their interactions were hurried and in the school toilets.

He lifted his legs with one arm and reached to his ass with the other. He circled his hole with one wet finger and shivered in anticipation. Gabriel had reached to tangle a hand in their hair and had a firm grip on their dick, stroking almost too slow, too gentle.

Sam took a deep breath, to be doing this himself was so different to Gabriel doing it. He pushed inside, finger sliding in and lube warming up. He pulled it out slowly, and pushed in again, feeling more confident. It sank to the knuckle and he pulled it out faster than before. It left a dry burn and he gasped. Gabriel tugged sharply on their hair and a flash of pure pleasure ran through Sam.

He fucked them with one finger until he felt ready for another. As he added his second he felt Gabriel add a first.

"Oh fuck." He moaned, letting go of his legs. He bucked into the air and pushed down onto his fingers. He crooked them, searching, and as he did Gabriel did. They hit the prostate just seconds apart and Sam saw stars. He clutched the duvet with his free hand and Gabriel tugged their hair hard. Sam was so close it almost hurt. Gabriel let go of their dick and ran his nails up their chest. Sam moaned and threw his head back, fuck he was close. He fucked harder and faster with his fingers and hit the prostate as often as he could. Gabriel's hand hadn't returned to their dick and it ached, balls tight and desperate for release. Gabriel added two fingers and Sam whined.

"Fuck." He moaned. "Oh Gabriel, yes, fuck."

It was almost as if Gabriel had heard him, the man's fingers slammed hard into him, rubbing against his prostate and sending him right over the edge. He came hard and hot, all over his stomach. He nearly missed the number, he was so blissed out.

He lay basking in the afterglow until the cum began to dry uncomfortably on his skin. His legs were weak and his ass hurt like hell, so he waddled into the kitchen for a packet of wet wipes and his phone.

When he returned to his room he got dressed, sat on his bed and stared at the phone as if willing it to dial the number on its own. When that didn't happen he picked it up with a deep breath and began inputting the number. His heart was beating faster by the minute and he worried at his lip between his teeth as it dialled.

_ "Hello-o, this is Gabriel Milton? What can I do you for and how much are you paying?" _ __ The sunny voice on the other side called. The same sunny voice that gave Sam the number.

Sam chuckled nervously. "Uh, hi. This is Sam. Sam Winchester."

_ "Well, fuck me with a flaming cactus." _ __ Gabriel exclaimed. Sam heard something large and heavy fall over on the other end of the phone. And then a hasty apology. _ "Shit, sorry. I may or may not have just fallen off my chair in excitement." _

Sam full on laughed at that. His heart slowed slightly and he relaxed onto his bed. "Why would I want to fuck you with a flaming cactus?"

_ "You not into that sort of thing? Darn. Well how about I fuck _ __ you _ with the cactus?" _

"I'd prefer that, but how about we take the cactus out of the equation?"

_ "I like your style, kiddo." _ __ Gabriel laughed.

Sam wasn't sure what to say next. What do you first say to the guy that's been giving you mind blowing orgasms for the past few months? What do you say to your soulmate the first time you actually talk?

Luckily, Gabriel seemed to be at no trouble for talking. Or rather, making Sam talk. He asked Sam everything, from his favourite colour to his opinion on ISIS to his perfect first date.

Sam forgot his Dad was due home until the door opened.

"Shit, my Dad's home. I gotta go." He sighed.

_ "Alright, call me whenever, okay? I have classes in the mornings on Monday through Wednesday and all day Thursday and Friday. But I'm free all weekend." _

Sam grinned. He was beginning to fall in love, he thought.


	6. Chapter Six – Pornhub Ain’t Got Nothing on Sam Winchester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ;)))))))))))))

It took an entire week for Sam to ask Gabriel for his Skype. And Gabriel seemed somewhat sad when he did.

_ "You sure?" _

"Why wouldn't I be?"

_ "Don't you know the catch with this whole soulmate shiznick?" _

Sam frowned. He surely would have remembered a catch of some kind.

Gabriel sighed, it was sad and annoyed. Sam hoped that it wasn't annoyance at his stupidity. _ "You see your other half's face and the connection's gone. Blammo, no more hot sex. And I don't know about you, but I'm enjoying this whole thing." _

"Oh." Sam's frown deepened. He remembered that now. Fuck. "That's such bullshit."

_ "Ain't that the truth? But trust _ __ _ me _ __ _ kiddo, you ain't missing much." _

Sam's frown deepened further still. "I don't believe that."

Gabriel chuckled somewhat bashfully and Sam realized he had nothing else to say. His frown finally left, replaced by a thoughtful expression; then a grin when an idea came to mind.

"Do you have a mirror?"

_ "Do I have a mirror?" _ __ Gabriel scoffed. _ "Of course I have a mirror. Do you think I could live without a mirror? I'm standing in front of the mirror. What do you want me to do with the mirror?" _

"I want you to describe yourself to me."

_ "You gonna draw me like one of your French girls?" _

Sam chuckled and bit his lip at the growl Gabriel's voice had taken.

"No, I'm hopeless at art."

_ "Shame. So, you want me to describe mi cara?" _

"Yeah? Your body too, if that's okay with you."

Gabriel sighed. _ "Alright, I'm no Edgar Allen Poe but I'll try. _

_ "Well, I'm white to start off with, shocker I know. And by white I mean, like, I never leave the house, I’m practically a ghost. _

_ “My hair goes down to the base of my neck, it's like, golden brown? I guess? _ __ _ Like, if you were making a cake, my hair is the colour you'd want it to be. Or maybe it's a bit darker. I don't know.  _

_ “Shut up Winchester, I can hear you laughing at my literary prowess. Does it even count as literary if I'm talking instead of writing? Anyway, my eyes are hazel, I guess. I have freckles - don't you fucking gasp like that you ass. Uh, what else..? I have a pretty damn big nose and an overbite, so you can't see my teeth except when I smile. I should probably shave." _ __ He chuckled nervously.

Sam had shut his eyes to imagine Gabriel and was smiling. He looked just like he sounded, bright and sunny. He looked beautiful.

"How about that body of yours?" He smirked.

Gabriel full on laughed. _ "Oh I have abs for days baby; abs for days." _ __ When Sam didn't reply he sighed sheepishly. _ "Alright so I'm not exactly Lou Ferrigno. I haven't been to the gym in a while but I have some weights at home that I use. I'm not that big height wise, five six or something? I'm kinda just average. " _

"You sound anything but average." Sam murmured.

_ "Yeah, well." _

"I mean it in a good way. You sound pretty beautiful."

_ "Aw shucks Samuel, you make a girl giddy." _

"Yeah, yeah." Sam rolled his eyes. Gabriel was a lot like Dean, didn't know how to take compliments without turning them into a joke.

_ "Oh, and my dick. Bigger than anything you've ever seen. One girl saw it and fainted, I swear." _

Sam laughed harder than anything. "I bet."

_ "I swear on the soul of my dear departed grandmammy Bertina." _

"Bertina?" Sam cackled.

_ "What? You don't like the name? Shame, I was gonna call my first child Bertina." _

"Oh sure, I bet they'd love that." The front door opened and Sam heard Dean come in yelling about something. "Shit, I gotta go." If Dean was willing to argue it had to be bad.

"He's just my friend!" Dean yelled.

"I ain't raising no goddamned faggots boy!" Came Dad's response. Sam winced and hoped Gabriel couldn't hear.

_ "Talk to ya later Samshine." _ __ Gabriel promised. There was something in his voice that told Sam he'd heard John Winchester's yelling.

Sam hung up.

It was another two weeks before Sam came up with an idea, a way of Gabriel seeing him but not his face. He waited until Dad and Dean went out for the weekend. Dad to go hunting with their uncle Bobby and Dean to go to what Sam suspected was his boyfriend's house.

He grabbed an old microphone stand left over from Dean's rock star phase, and taped his phone to the end. He situated the contraption above his bed and moved his phone so that all but his pillow was visible. Before he could wimp out of it he stripped his clothes off and pressed record. Carefully avoiding allowing his head in the frame he crawled onto the bed and rolled to lie on his front. The camera of his phone stared at him with it's single black eye and he felt like there was a spotlight on his dick. Oddly, that wasn't a bad feeling, it was a nervous anticipation in his gut and an excited thrill in his chest.

"Okay." He breathed.

He stroked his hands down his torso, putting the slightest bit of pressure on his nipples. The nerves in his gut were beginning to shift into something else. Something that pulled the blood downwards like a magnet.

He took a firm grip on his already hardening dick and began to stroke with one hand as the other continued its journey over his body.

He shut his eyes and imagined that instead of the camera it was Gabriel watching him. The thought sent a shiver through him and he almost forgot how to breathe for a second at the image. The image of Gabriel there, biting his lip red raw, hard in his jeans because of Sam, watching as he fucked slowly into his fist. Not touching himself because Sam had told him not to, just watching and whimpering whenever Sam made a noise. It was a fucking hot picture.

He rolled the palm of his hand over the head of his dick, pinning it to his stomach, and when he let go it sprang up, half hard and wanting attention. He began to stroke gently, wanting this to last. There were absolutely no nerves inside him anymore, they'd all coiled into lust.

He pinched one of his nipples and bit back a whimper before remembering that he was putting on a show. He let go of his nipple and scraped his hand down his body, nails leaving faint pink lines in their wake. When he reached his hip he lifted his legs to either side, careful not to obstruct the camera. He reached between them and his fingers found his hole. He had no lube, but he wasn't planning on going that far. He rubbed at his entrance and slowly pushed the tip of his forefinger in. The slight burn it gave made his breath quicken and his dick become almost achingly hard.

He rolled his thumb over the head of his dick and let himself groan at the feeling. He did it again, and pushed the tip of his finger back in, making him moan louder and arch his back slightly. He fucked himself with the tip of his finger until his wrist began to hurt.

He withdrew his hand and tangled it in his hair, alternating between massaging and tugging at the strands. He still kept a steady rhythm on his dick, and it was slick with precum in his hand. He thrust steadily into his hand, using his feet to steady himself and stop the bed from bouncing. Behind his eyelids Gabriel was naked and touching himself, moaning and running a hand through his hair.

"Fuck." He moaned, pulling hard on his hair. "Oh fuck, Gabriel." His voice echoed slightly in the empty room, but he grew more confident. "Gabriel, fuck Gabriel." Gabriel would be close to coming now, watching Sam with undivided attention, cheeks flushed, and eyes wide. He was close, he could feel it, and his hand sped up against his will. "Gabriel, oh my God, _  Gabriel _ ." He choked on his words as he came, cum painting his stomach in hot, wet ribbons. Wow. He really hoped Gabriel liked this. 


	7. Chapter Seven – John Winchester; President of the Bad Parents Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> imma fight john i swear

John Winchester was a drunk. He'd been a drunk since his wife had died; probably before. He was a violent drunk, but that had never been a real issue before. He didn't usually take that out on people. They'd had quite a few televisions smashed over the years, and there wasn't a vase about the house, but that was about it. Sometimes he'd argue with Sam, but it hardly ever ended in anything but slammed doors and smashed bottles.

Why? See, Sam wanted to go to college. He wanted to leave their small town and get a proper education. Instead of merely working with Dean and Dad at the local garage for just barely enough to live on what with an alcoholic for a father.

John didn't want Sam to leave. Sam didn't care. So they argued. They argued and John broke something and then he left to find the nearest bar.

But recently things had been getting worse. Dean and Dad had been arguing.

Dean had always been the good kid, it was Sam that would fight and argue. Ever since he was old enough to realize that his Dad was wrong to have given up after Mom died, and that it was not Sam's fault at all, or Dean's for that matter. And nor was it John's fault; Sam could see the pain in his father's eyes every day. He knew his Dad blamed himself for Mary's death. Sam became so damn angry, all the false accusations his Dad threw around, the fact that Dean hardly ever defended himself, the fact that his Mom was gone and he'd never even known her. Dad should be telling him stories of her, what she was like before she'd died, how proud she'd be of Sam. But he didn't; he drank and yelled and treated Sam and Dean like servants, never proud of anything either of them ever did.

When Sam and Dad fought, Dean often just shrivelled up in the corner, refusing to take sides. But when Dean and Dad fought Sam tried to help; his brother pushed him away and told him to be careful. Dean would yell at Dad for so many things; for Mom, Sam, but mainly for not accepting him for who he was. For being bisexual.

John Winchester was, as well as a drunk, a bigoted ass. He was truly a product of his generation. Sam put it down to fear when he was feeling generous. And when he wasn't? There was no excuse.

It was close to eleven on a Wednesday night. Sam and Dean were watching reruns of Dr. Sexy and Sam was zoning out, mentally writing a shopping list.

The front door slammed shut and Sam tensed.

"Damn it." Dean muttered beside him. He took his feet off the coffee table and stretched before grabbing the remote and changing the channel to some Japanese game show.

"Evenin'." John grunted. He staggered through the living room to the kitchen. Neither brother moved to help him, both acting as if completely enthralled in the show, which was currently advertising some kind of potato chip.

"He drank all the beer and smashed the whiskey bottle the other day." Dean muttered bitterly.

Sam hoped to God that Dad had restocked the fridge.

"Where's the fuckin' beer?" John demanded, words slurring together and losing their sharpness.

"You drank it all." Sam reminded him coolly, he was tired, both physically and mentally, and he wasn't in the mood for a fight.

"Well why the fuck di'n't you get more?"

Sam resisted the urge to laugh. Neither he nor Dean answered.

"Answer me when I'm talking to you, boys."

"Sorry, Dad." Dean muttered. "But neither of us could get any, I mean Sam's underage and I don't have ID."

"Fuckin' useless, you are. Turn this shit off and get me a bottle opener. I still got one left." Sam got up wordlessly and returned with the opener in hand. "See Dean, why don't you be more like your brother. Least he ain't a fuckin' pansy queer."

"What did you call him?" Sam asked. Exhaustion be damned, nobody talks to his brother like that, not even their Dad.

John eyed him up, his eyes red rimmed and struggling to focus. He stood up and staggered close to Sam. Sam didn't even flinch as he got a face full of stale breath. "I called him a queer, 'cause he is. A useless fuckin' queer."

"Shut the fuck up. He's your son you ungrateful-"

He wasn't able to finish, John's fist found its way to his eye before he could. It jolted his head to the side so hard it jarred his neck, and his face would undoubtedly bruise.

"Woah! Dad, no!" Dean came between them before John could do any more damage, holding his hands out to hold their Dad back without touching him, Sam knew he was scared of what might happen if he touched him. "Look, I personally couldn't care less what you call me." He looked pointedly at Sam. Sam resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. "And I think Sam's just tired, so we're gonna go up to bed and you can stay down here and watch the game, okay?"

John seemed to take it all in for a moment, but he was too drunk to find any reason to argue. Without saying a word he sat down heavily on the sofa and began to flick through channels. Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulder of his coat before his little brother could do anything. Sam reluctantly allowed him to drag him upstairs and into the bathroom. He sat down obediently on the closed toilet and watched Dean silently run a flannel under the cold tap.

"Keep this on until I get some ice." His brother demanded. Sam nodded weakly, he could see the hurt tugging at Dean's features. His brother hated it when Sam did this, stood up for him when he wouldn't himself.

"You can yell at me as much as you like Dean, I'm not gonna stop standing up for you."

Dean stopped in the doorway, he didn't turn around but Sam saw his head move into a slow nod.

"Just do me a favour and forgive him, yeah?"

"Yeah, alright." Sam promised grudgingly. He really fucking hated it; every time this happened, every time without fail, the next day John would spend at least ten minutes apologizing and making sure Sam wasn't too banged up. He didn't do Jack shit to make up to Dean, and usually because of that Sam would storm out the door with a curt goodbye and when he got home John was drinking again and tossing bigoted slurs around like a tennis ball.


	8. Chapter Eight – Three Words and a Whole Load of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dont cry sam u fuckin baby

Sam went into school the next day with half his face bruised and throbbing, and the urgent need to punch something. He could barely see out of his eye it was so swollen but he had refused the ice pack his father had offered. As usual, John had profusely apologized and Sam had stubbornly ignored him. Dean had sent him a hurt expression and Sam refused to acknowledge the twinge in his gut when he was faced with it.

He was halfway through his first lesson when his phone buzzed in his pocket. A quick glance showed that it was Gabriel calling and his blood ran ice cold. Gabriel had classes all day, he'd never call unless something bad had happened. Sam excused himself to go to the toilet and jogged to the most secluded spot in the school; behind the southernmost building, where nobody came except the stoners and class cutters. With a quick thank you to whoever might be listening that nobody was there he dialled Gabriel's number.

He picked up almost immediately.

"Gabe, what's up?" Sam panted, leaning up against the wall. He wrinkled his nose in disdain when the air tasted stale; like cigarettes and weed and who knows what else.

_ "Why don't you fucking tell me?" _ Came the seething response. Sam's stomach dropped to his toes.

"What?" He asked, stomach churning with anxious dread.

_ "So I wake up this morning and my roommate stares at me like I've grown an extra eye, which is a pretty damn big change from him pretending I don't exist. Naturally, being as vain as I am and also wanting to know what in the fuck is going on I grab my mirror and lo and behold; my face looks like I've been in the ring with fucking Rocky." _

Gabriel was hissing, his voice barely at a normal volume but it sounded like yelling with how close his mouth must have been to the mouthpiece.

Sam winced. Fuck, the connection. He held the phone slightly away from his head. "Oh shit. I'm so sorry."

_ "You don't be sorry. You tell me right now who the fuck did this to you and I'll make _ __ them __ _ sorry." _ __ Gabriel promised darkly.   
Sam took a moment to comprehend what Gabriel had just said. "What?" He asked again.

_ "Someone deserves a can of whoop ass in the mail and you need to tell me who it is before I come down there and force it outta you." _

Sam couldn't help but to smile. His heart skipped at just the thought that Gabriel cared. "I love you." He muttered without meaning to.

_ "Huh?" _

Sam flushed crimson and cringed, heart beating even faster. Oh fuck. "Nothing, I just - I didn't say anything. Everything's fine, I'm okay." Please God let Gabriel not have heard.

Evidently he hadn't, or at least if he had he didn't mention it. The minute Sam claimed to be alright he demanded to know who'd hurt him and gave creative threats, including but not limited to; several places he could shove their head and how many firecrackers he was gonna shove up their ass.

Sam was bent double laughing when Gabriel finally stopped his furious ranting.

_ "What? What's so funny?" _ __ He inquired, sounding angry and confused but somewhat pleased.

"Dude, do you ever listen to yourself?" Sam snorted. "I don't mean that in a bad way or anything, but you have to be the most creative person I've ever met - or talked to, whatever."

Gabriel chuckled bashfully. But the next moment he coughed and when he spoke his voice was serious. _ "But for real Sam, who hurt you." _

Sam sighed, not wanting to admit to anyone, let alone his literal soulmate. He shut his eyes tightly, preparing for the inevitable fury. "My, uh, my Dad." His confession came out weak and quiet, timid.

For a moment Gabriel was silent, too stunned for words Sam imagined. But instead of the fresh wave of insults Sam was expecting, Gabriel sighed dejectedly.

_ "Fuck." _ __ He murmured. _ "He done this before?" _

Sam swallowed back tears that suddenly threatened to fall. He nodded before he remembered Gabriel couldn't see.

"No. Not like this at least." He muttered, cursing his wavering voice.

_ "Goddamn it. Okay, listen to me. Are you in college yet?" _

"No." The tears gathered in his eyes and he blinked them away angrily. "Next year."

_ "Okay, alright. There's seven months left of this school year right?" _

Sam made a noise of confirmation, not trusting his voice. The first tear fell, rolling down his cheek. He wiped it away hastily.

_ "Okay, if this happens again I want you to come to Stanford college immediately, you got that? Just text me when you get here and I'll tell you where to find me." _

Sam laughed, he couldn't help it, it was just so ironic - and as soon as he started laughing the tears began to fall, trailing down his face and neck.

_ "What? What's so funny?" _ __ Gabriel asked, sounding worried.

"My first choice, Stanford." Sam hiccupped. "Gonna take law."

_ "You fucking nerd." _ __ Sam could hear the grin. Gabriel began to laugh until they were both hiccupping and unable to breathe. _ "Alright." _ __ Gabriel gasped. _ "I really gotta go, I have a friend to copy notes from for my first class but I'm alone next and I really gotta pass this class." _

"Okay." Sam hiccupped in return. "Bye."

_ "Oh, and Sam?" _

"Yeah?"

_ "I love you too." _

Sam was struck dumb and before he could say anything in return Gabriel had hung up. Sam's stomach did flips

Gabriel loved him, and when he grinned the bruises on his face hurt a little less.


	9. Chapter Nine – A Helping Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sam's happy but not for long

Sam walked back into his lesson, keeping his head lowered so that nobody could see the red rims of his eyes. But evidently that didn't work.

"Sam, you okay?" Kevin asked, placing a careful hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Yeah, 's just hay fever." Sam sniffed. "Forgot my tablets."

"You sure? Cause I've never seen you take tablets before." Kevin asked skeptically.

"I'm _ fine _ __ Kevin." Sam snapped, because people were starting to pay attention. Kevin left him be, except to place a hand on his shoulder, a hand that Sam knew meant 'I'm here for you'.

Sam had very few friends, and the people that he did consider his friends knew very little about him. He never talked about his home life except when it was to tell a story about Dean doing something stupid. Never did he mention John. They accepted that, didn't question him further.

Or at least they had until today. Sam sat alone at lunch, on a wall well away from his usual table. But evidently his friends didn't understand that he wanted to be alone, or if they did, they didn't seem to care.

"Sam? You okay? Kevin told me you were crying earlier." Jess asked, startling him from his reading. "Mice and Men? Getting ready for the exams huh?"

Sam nodded. "I'm fine." He insisted through gritted teeth.

"Okay." She said, simply, and sat on the wall beside him. From her bag, situated on the ground between her legs, she pulled her own copy of the book and an apple.

"Aren't you eating?"

"Are you?" She retorted.

Sam didn't answer. He was way too fucked emotionally to eat. They sat in amiable if slightly tense silence, just the sound of pages turning and Jess slowly making her way through the fruit.

"My Dad ran away when I was little." She told him, unprovoked. He winced and turned to face her, was about to give words of sympathy before she looked at him, slightly bemused with a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Mom used to be so angry at him for that. But now she's just sad."

"My Mom died. When I was born."

Jess winced. "I hope you know it wasn't your fault."

"Of course I do." Sam chuckled. He couldn't find it in himself to be bitter, not really. "Dad doesn't though; some part of him still thinks it was my fault for being born and I know he hates that part but it's still there. And as well as that he's still stuck in this stupid fucking old fashioned mentality that Dean's broken or something."

"He sounds like an ass."

"You have no idea." Sam laughed. He lowered his head so that his fringe would hide the tears pricking at his eyes. He didn't even attempt to blink them away. He wished Gabriel hadn't called. God, he'd never been so broken up about this before. He'd just accepted it. But now that Gabriel -and now Jess - knew? Everything seemed messed up beyond repair. "And Dean doesn't even stand up for himself most of the time. Dad calls him a queer and all he does is sit there and takes it." He didn't add that even when Dean did stand up for himself he allowed their Dad to yell him down, succumbed to the man's slurs and even hits. He wouldn't let Sam help him no matter what. And that was infuriating.

"How about we ditch this place and go out for ice cream?" Jess asked calmly, handing Sam a packet of tissues. Sam looked up and into her eyes and saw anger and determination. He thought he might just love her. "You want to?"

Sam nodded. Jess jumped from the wall and shouldered her bag before patiently waiting for Sam to do the same. He didn't even have to jump.

With a quick plea to Kevin and Ash for a Ferris Bueller-esque phone call they were off,  out the school gates, and into town. It didn't take long for them to find a cosy ice cream parlour and by the time they did rain had begun to fall. They dumped their coats and bags at one of the many empty tables and went up to order. Jess paid, despite Sam's protesting.

The owner looked at them like they were crazy as they sat at the table with both ice creams and hot chocolates in hand.

"Alright Sam. We're gonna talk about absolutely everything apart from family. That okay?"

Sam grinned. "Yeah, that's great."

They ended up talking about their lessons ("I'm pretty sure Mr. Bird is gonna die before the end of the year, he's so damn old." "Yeah, but he's pretty fucking awesome."), Jess' cat ("She's an absolute angel if she likes you, but if she doesn't you're gonna get cut."), how many dogs Sam was gonna have one day one way or another ("You're insane! I'm pretty sure you can't even _ buy _ that many dogs, let alone afford to feed them!" "I'll steal them then! Dognap them!"), how Amy never seemed to notice that Jess was flirting with her ("Oh come on, not even the hand on her thigh?" "Nope, she just hugged me and told me what a great friend I was like I'd just helped her through a break up instead of with her maths homework!"), even went so far as to talk about their first kisses ("It was like he was trying to eat my _ entire _ __ face. No shit I'm not attracted to guys from that fucking horror show." "Yeah? You think that's bad? Try kissing someone when you're both wearing braces!").

Before Sam even knew it, it was four o'clock and Dean was texting him asking to pick up something for dinner on the way home.

"Thank you." He beamed sincerely at Jess. "I really needed this."

"No shit." She grinned in return. "Now get over here and hug me." It was a demand that Sam met willingly, and while she was squeezing the remnants of sadness out of him he felt like nothing could possibly go wrong.

Instead of getting takeaway like he usually would, Sam bought spaghetti, meatballs, and enough tomato sauce to drown half the continent. Both John and Dean were home, but he ignored his father's pathetic excuse for an apology and explanation in favour of cooking. If the meatballs were a little burned and the spaghetti undercooked, Dean's pleased expression was worth it, as was the temporary peace in the household as they ate and watched Top Gear in mostly silence.


	10. Chapter Ten – Dean Goes to Live With Alligators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'sO LONG SUCKERS HAVE FUN WITH YOUR HOMOPHOBIA AND GUILT' - Dean Winchester 2k15

" _So then, he opens the door, and I shit you not every single one of those balloons burst as they hit the ground. His stupid ass new shoes were covered in fluorescent pink paint, the janitor was scrubbing the floor for weeks afterwards. It was brilliant!_ "

"Oh my god! You're evil!" Sam snorted through his laughter.

" _Come on! The fucker had it coming. He stole my friend's clothes and his towel while he was in the shower. I was just giving him what he deserved._ "Gabriel snorted.

"Well, I guess that's fair." Sam chuckled.

He was lying on his bed with an ice pack on his face to try to get rid of the swelling around his eye. The most that seemed to be happening at this moment was that his face had become numb, which, to be fair, was better than the aching pain that the bruise had previously held.

" _So, Samuel L. Jackson, what's the best prank you've ever gotten away with_?"

"I don't know. I mean me and Dean used to have these prank wars, but we never really got away with them because we always got each other back. And it was never what we deserved, just a bit of fun."

" _Dean sounds cool_." Sam might have been imagining it, but Gabriel sounded almost wistful.

Sam smiled fondly. "He's not awful, I guess." Gabriel was silent on the other end. "Do you have any siblings?"

" _Yeah. I have brothers. They suck. Time to change the subject._ "

"Okay." Sam said simply. He wanted to give Gabriel his condolences, but he could tell from the man's clipped tone that that would not end well. "How about I tell you what I look like?"

" _That_ _is a very good idea, Samsung._ " Gabriel purred.

Sam laughed. Gabriel's stupid nicknames were one of his favourite things, he came up with new ones every phone call and Sam would be lying if he said his heart didn't do giddy flips at every single one. "Alright. Well. I have brown hair, down to my shoulders almost. My eyes are al over the place, you could probably call them hazel. Oh, and I have kind of an upturned nose? And there's this mole to the left of it. And then I have dimples, don't even start. I'm, uh, six three." Gabriel wolf whistled. Sam felt his face redden. "Shut up."

" _Come over here and make me, Samoa._ "

Sam decided to ignore him, even if his cheeks didn't, at least Gabriel couldn't see his blush. "And you've, ah, you've seen my body.” He coughed. “I'm pretty toned, I guess. I mean I go running a lot, and to the gym sometimes when I don't feel like being at home. And, well, that's it, really."

Gabriel was silent. Sam held his breath.

" _Fuck. You're. You're so. Fuck. You're damn gorgeous Sam_."

Sam laughed, his face flaming, except for the part covered by the ice. His heart was beating hard in his chest and he was shocked how much it mattered to him what Gabriel thought.

The door slammed. Sam sighed. "Sorry, Dad's home."

" _Aww, fuck_ ." Gabriel groaned. " _Bye, handsome. I love you._ " The words seemed to come so easily to Gabriel. Sam's heart stuttered up into his throat, and he nearly choked on his breath.

"Bye. I - I love you too."

And then Gabriel hung up with a chuckle, Sam let the phone fall from his hand. He felt warm throughout. He felt like he might be glowing.

Someone knocked at his door. "Sammy?"

It was Dean. Sam frowned, he wasn't usually home this early. "Come in."

Dean did so, and winced when he saw the ice pack. "Sorry about that. And, y'know, thanks." He perched on the edge of Sam's bed. Sam was going to complain about engine grease on his sheets but his brother looked nervous and ashamed so he let it be.

"Don't be sorry, bastard deserved it." He told him. He knew his brother would continue to blame himself, it was part of his character, but the least he could do was try to change his mind.

"Yeah. I know." Dean wasn't looking at Sam, his eyes were raking Sam's walls as if he'd never seen them before.

Sam sat up and scooted close to his brother. "What's the matter?" He asked. Dean finally met his eyes.

"Right. So. You know my friend Cas?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know your friend Cas." Cas was not Dean's friend; Cas was Dean's boyfriend. But Dean would continue to pretend otherwise in their house, which Sam entirely understood.

"Yeah. Well he's moving to Florida. It was gonna be next month but his rent just ran out and he thought it might as well be now."

Sam was confused for a moment as to why this mattered, but then it dawned on him.

"And you're going with him."

Dean nodded, looking ashamed.

"Well it's about time, man. I was worried you'd live here forever."

"You're not mad?"

"No. Of course not. You go live with your boyfriend, just text me, okay?"

Dean was instantly bright eyed and boisterous. "Course I will. You think I'd move across the country and forget all about my dorky little brother." He grinned. He grabbed Sam by the shoulder and pulled him into a headlock, ruffling his hair.

"Get off me, jerk." Sam laughed, prising Dean's arm from around his neck. He managed to free himself and push his cackling brother off the bed.

"Right. I'm going to pack. I'm leaving on Sunday."

"Awesome."

On Sunday Sam bid Dean goodbye at Cas' flat, with the irritated landlord trying to get rid of them as soon as possible. When he got home John didn't even ask where his other son was. He didn't ask for a week.


	11. Chapter Eleven – The Writer Very Much Wants to Punch John Winchester in the Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M LEADER OF THE SAM WINCHESTER DEFENCE SQUAD WHO'S WITH ME

"Amy's still completely oblivious." Jess sighed, dumping her bag on the floor and flopping down on her bed, leaving Sam to sit at the desk as he usually did. In almost five entire months Amy hadn't done so much as to make a comment in passing to indicate that she might be interested in girls or Jess at the least, but Jess wasn't about to give up. "I told her she had beautiful lips and she just went on about this new lipstick she'd bought!"

Sam chuckled at his friend and pulled out his notebook. He'd been coming to her house on almost a weekly basis for about a month. Jess' mother was about to bring out a wedding cake, he thought. Little did she know all they did together was study; which meant Jess pining over Amy and Sam doodling in his notebook.

"You need to just ask her out already!" He pushed. 

"But what if she doesn't like me? Or it ruins our friendship? What if she tells people and my Mom finds out?"

Sam shrugged.

"You're absolutely useless." Jess announced.

Sam shrugged again, absentmindedly drawing a pair of yellow wings.

"You know what you need?"

"What do I need?"

"You need a girlfriend, or boyfriend, whatever."

Sam's hand stilled and he spun the chair to look at Jess. She was on her stomach facing him, and there was a smirk on her lips that only meant trouble. Oh no.

"I do not." He told her firmly. She just looked up at him with that ever so sweet smile of hers.

"You do too."

She crossed her ankles behind her, looking for all the world like an innocent, sweet, young girl. She was a damn devil in disguise, was that girl.

"I'm _ really _ __ not interested in anyone right now." He insisted.

Jess rolled her eyes and herself onto her back. She looked at him from upside down like a bored cat. "Come on, I'm bored. I need to do some matchmaking before I die of boredom."

Sam shook his head with a smile. "Fine, what about Kevin?"

"What about him? Do you _ like _ __ him" She grinned, waggling her eyebrows.

"God, no. Find a girl for him."

"Nah, little nerd's already got heart eyes for Georgia Sampson."

"Isn't she with Jacob Maryland?"

Jess shrugged. "Don't know, don't care. Even if she wasn't Kevin has no chance."

"Cause he's a nerd?"

"No; cause he's Asian and she's a racist bitch."

"Ah." Sam winced. He'd never understand the prejudices in the world: against people of different races, religions, sexualities, and people with soulmates. It just didn't make sense.

"Sam?" Jess' mother called from the door. "Your father's here to pick you up."

Jess shot Sam a confused look. His Dad never came to pick him up.

"I'll be down in a minute, ma'am."

"Is everything okay?" Jess asked, once they heard her mother's footsteps descending the stairs.

"Yeah. Or at least it was." His stomach was churning unpleasantly and he searched his head for a good reason for his Dad to pick him up.

He packed his notebook in his bag and shouldered it. Bidding Jess a nervous goodbye, he went downstairs. John was making pleasant conversation with Jess' mother, but when he looked at Sam his eyes gained a stony quality.

"Alright son? We'll be going then. Thank you Mrs. Moore." He nodded at Jess' mother.

"Oh, it's no problem. Sam's welcome whenever." She grinned at both of them, either not sensing the tension or choosing to ignore it, which Sam thought was probably more likely. She had a habit of just ignoring things she disliked.

John grunted goodbye and Sam said his goodbyes and thank yous to Jess' mother. He prolonged his exit because while he had no idea what it was - judging by his mood, expression, and the fact that he'd called Sam 'son' which he only ever did when he wanted to remind him that that was what he was - whatever his Dad had picked him up about was bad.

He got into the car wordlessly, hoping that maybe if he didn't start the conversation one wouldn't happen. John started the engine and they started the ten minute drive to their house.

"I ain't gonna pussyfoot around this shit. I borrowed your phone yesterday night for something. And you had a text from some guy named _ Gabriel _ ."

Oh fuck. God, he should have known it wasn't just a mistake when the message was already marked read. Sam's heart was in his throat beating fast as if trying to escape, and he hoped it choked him.

"And what I wanna know is: who the fuck is Gabriel, and why the fuck is he telling you he wishes he could see your face."

Sam glanced over at his father. John had a tight grip on the steering wheel and was staring straight ahead.

"I, uh-"

"Don't fucking lie to me Sam. 'S all I can do to not reach over there and push you outta this car right now."

Sam swallowed, trying to push his pounding heart back to its proper position.

"Gabriel is, uh, he's my, my soulmate." Sam muttered bitterly. He wished he could lie, but it was no use, John already know and Sam knew that he knew.

"Well. Ain't this fucking brilliant. I already got one pathetic queer of a son, and now I got two. And one of them has a fucking faggot soulmate."

"Fuck you." Sam spat.

To be honest; he was completely expecting the fist that flew into his face. That didn't mean he was ready for it. His head flew back into the window with a crack and set off a ringing in his head that almost deafened him to John's cursing and the sharp pain coming from his nose. Instinctively, he brought his hand up to cup it. Something warm and wet trickled through his fingers. His nose felt misshapen and splintered.

"Bastard." He hissed, half in anger, half in pain. He could hardly hear John's response. The moment they stopped moving he opened the car door with his free hand and nearly fell into the road. He felt sick and dizzy, took about two steps before throwing up on the tarmac. John was out of the car now, he ignored Sam, just walked straight up into the house.

Sam stood there for ages, waiting for his head to stop spinning.

His phone began to ring.

He pulled it from his pocket and tapped where he thought the decline button was. It wasn't.

_ "Sam?" _ __ Gabriel's voice came out, sounding tinny and small through the loudspeaker. Sam registered that he sounded in pain. _ "Fuck. Sam, are you there? Are you okay? I'm gonna fucking kill him." _ __ Sam stumbled around the car and into the pavement, where he sat, leaning against the car next to John's and with one hand trying to stop the blood from dripping down his chin. He was having to breathe through his mouth.

He managed to turn the loudspeaker off even with teary eyes, and he lifted the phone to his still ringing ear. Gabriel was yelling threats and possibly crying.

"Gabriel." Sam coughed. He wasn't heard. "Gabriel? Gabe."

_ "Sam? Oh thank fuck. My nose, it just broke, outta nowhere. I want to know what the fuck happened right now. I'll call fucking ChildLine if I have to." _

"No. Gabe please. It was just a misunderstanding."

_ "What the fuck happened?" _ __ Gabriel demanded.

"It was... My Dad found out about you."

_ "The fucking fuck. I'm gonna murder the bag of dicks I swear to God. Sorry ma'am." _

"Wait, where are you?"

_ "Bus, on the way to the hospital with half a roll of tissue in my nose." _

"I'm so sorry."

_ "Sam, if you apologise for your Dad's dickishness again I'm gonna slap you, alright?" _

"Okay."

_ "Good, now get to the nearest medical place and get that nose seen to. I love you." _

"I love you too." And Sam hung up. His heart didn’t do anything at Gabriel’s words, not like usual. It felt dead in his chest.

He pocketed his phone and stood up shakily. He didn't go to a hospital, or a pharmacy, or anything. He marched into the house, or tried to as best he could on his shaking legs with his head still spinning. Then he quietly ascended the stairs and tiptoed into the bathroom. After washing the blood from his hand and all down his arm, he washed the blood from his face and swallowed two painkillers. There was actually less blood than he'd thought there to be, which he was grateful for.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Blue black bruises had formed on his cheekbones under his eyes. His nose looked swollen and his eyes were red and streaming. He gave his nose a tentative pinch and almost threw up when it produced a nauseous pain accompanied a horrific crackling noise.

Then he went down the hall and packed everything he could into the biggest suitcase he could find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand everything's downhill from here folks i'll see myself out


	12. Chapter Twelve – A Druggie and a Runaway Walk Onto a Train

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ash is my babe and i dont just mean this ash ;)))))

Sam bought a ticket for the midnight train from Lawrence to LA. It was nearly two hundred dollars, which was almost all the money he had. He left the house at half past ten and walked to the station.

He couldn't breathe through his nose very well, whenever he tried to speak his face felt like he was being stabbed, and he had just fifty dollars cash. He felt hopeless, dragging his suitcase behind him down the road.

The station held a handful of people looking just as downtrodden as he. He sat on his suitcase, as far away from anyone else as possible. They didn't notice him, they hardly seemed to notice each other. There was one family with two shivering children dressed in pyjamas and buzzing with energy. One of them asked when the train was getting there. They were the liveliest group there, and Sam gathered that they were going on holiday rather than escaping. The two little boys played tag, dancing around under their parents' legs. The Dad laughed and picked one of them up, placing a sloppy kiss on his son's cheek. The world was a cruel, ironic place, Sam thought. To put it less elegantly; it sucked ass.

The train got there ten minutes early and the family were the first to get on. Sam followed a grumpy looking man with a black briefcase into the carriage furthest away from the excitable children. It was dimly lit and most of the seats were declined. He sat on his own and placed his case beside him as a barricade against the world. Then he fell asleep.

When he woke up the train was in motion and sunlight streamed through the windows. His head hurt like a hangover and his neck ached. He yawned and winced when the stabbing pain in his nose hit him.

He dug the paracetamol from his bag and swallowed two, briefly considered taking one more, but decided against it. He wasn't sure it was a good idea even if it did make the pain that much more bearable.

He stared out the window and tried his best to take in the scenery, but there wasn't much to see. There were trees and buildings, more trees, more buildings. And eventually his mind wandered.

What would Gabriel think of this? Would he really accept Sam appearing on his doorstep? Sam really wished he'd been able to finish high school before John had fucked it all up.

He felt a hand on his head and smiled. He drew a cross on his stomach and felt the hand trail down and wrap around his waist. He shut his eyes and sighed, focusing on Gabriel rubbing circles into his hip. He stroked a hand down their cheek and hooked it over their shoulder, rubbing their neck.

His stomach soon began to vocalise it's thoughts on the lack of food, Sam hadn't brought any with him and wasn't planning on leaving his seat to find the food carriage. So he just put up with the growling and pangs of hunger. The train steadily filled. About an hour after he woke up a young man with a long face and awful hair stopped beside him.

"Hey, man. You mind if I sit here?"

Sam shrugged and pulled his bag off the seat and onto the floor under his feet. The man thanked him and sat down. He smelled like weed and coffee. Sam's stomach growled for about a minute and a half.

"Damn, you hungry?" The man whistled. Sam shrugged. "You want chips?"

Sam shrugged again. He should probably give vocal responses, but his nose hurt.

The man dropped a packet of salted potato chips into his lap. After a moment a bottle of water joined it.

"Thanks." Sam mumbled. He tore open the chips and began to eat, slower than his stomach would have liked. The chips weren't particularly filling, but Sam could live with it.

"I'm Ash." The man told him, holding a hand out.

"Sam." Sam responded, trying to say it with as little movement of his face as possible. He took the hand and shook firmly.

"Your nose okay?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

Sam made a noise of affirmation and hoped that Ash would leave him alone. His nose was not okay. It hurt like fuck. And talking to this guy was not helping that.

"Not that talkative, are you?"

"Talking hurts." Sam admitted. It was easier to talk through gritted teeth, he discovered.

"Pinch your nostrils a bit. Where you headed?"

"Nowhere." Sam did as told. It hurt like a motherfuck but he was able to breathe slightly better.

"You on all the way to LA?"

Sam nodded.

"Same here. College?"

Sam shrugged. "Something like that."

Ash made a noise like that was the answer he'd expected. He didn't ask any more questions. Sam went back to looking out the window. The sun was high in the sky, it was close to midday now and his stomach reminded him that all he'd eaten was the packet of chips. He took a gulp of water and discovered that he was also thirsty. Brilliant.

"I have snacks, if you're still hungry." Ash told him. He brought out from his backpack a few large bars of dark chocolate, a six pack of cider, and a sharing bag of nachos. All of these were placed on the fold down table in front of him. Sam thanked him and grabbed a bar of chocolate. After a moment of indecision he pulled a cider from the pack.

Ash raised an eyebrow. His eyes were smiling. "You old enough, dude?"

Sam shrugged yet again. " 'S it matter?"

Ash grinned. "Course not. But I'll tell you what; if you're drinking at eleven in the morning there better be a pretty good story behind it." As he spoke he pulled at the tab of his own can.

"What about you? Why're you drinking at eleven in the morning?" Sam asked, hoping Ash would just drop it. 

Ash shrugged. "Easy. My Mom just died and my deadbeat Dad kicked me out 'cause he can't afford me."

Sam winced. "Sorry."

Ash shrugged and drank. "I'll live. Got a job waiting for me in LA. Your turn."

Sam took a breath. "Dad kicked me out 'cause I like guys."

"He kick you in face?"

Sam smiled, which fucking hurt, so he stopped. "Punched me."

"Close 'nough. Bastard."

Sam wanted to smile again, but it wasn't worth the pain. He took a sip of his drink. "Thanks."

Ash grinned and tapped his can against Sam's. "To useless fathers."

Sam held back his own grin. "To useless fathers." They drank and the train came to another stop.

As it turned out, the alcohol helped to numb the pain of his nose and loosen his lips.

Ash had in his bag a pack of cards and, although it was just the two of them, they attempted a game of Go Fish.

"Any fours?"

"You asked me that round before last, idiot."

"Damn. Okay, any fives?"

"Uh uh, you already asked for fours. Go fuckin' fish, Sam."

Sam scowled and took a card from the pile. It was a four. Go figure.

"Sixes?"

"Go fuckin' fish, Ash."

Ash grinned when he picked up his card. He seemed pleased that Sam shared his sense of humour, as if it was a rare occurrence.

Ash was interesting, Sam had decided. He had an interesting face, and interesting hair, and interesting clothes with interesting tears. His interesting hair was in fact a mullet. He referred to it as being 'business in the front, party in the back' which Sam thought was hilarious because he'd never met one person with a mullet that had a business or went to parties, granted he hadn't meet a lot of people with mullets. His clothing consisted of jeans, a t-shirt, and a sleeveless denim monstrosity that was thankfully a different shade to his trousers. And then his jeans had more holes in them than a knitted sweater and his denim whatever didn't seem to have originally been sleeveless. His shirt advertised The Flaming Lips but was faded and hard to read.

Sam thought that there were probably worse people to get stuck on a train with.

They pulled in to another station, it was one o'clock. Ash picked up the last card from the pile.

"Sevens?" Sam asked. Ash handed him three cards. Sam placed the full set on the table. It joined a group of two's and one of jacks. Ash was winning; with a set of kings, one of eights, and one of aces.

"D'you ever miss your Mom?" Ash asked out of nowhere. Sam was so surprised at the random question that he didn't reply to Ash's request for nines. He only snapped out of his shock when Ash snapped right in front of his face and threatened to flick him on the nose.

"Oh, uh, go fish." Sam stuttered. After a moment of silence he answered the other question. "Never met her."

"Yeah, but do you miss her?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Might not make sense, but yeah."

"It's cause she was your mom." Ash nodded slowly and sagely. "Unless they're big enough assholes, most kids learn to love even the stories about their parents. 'Specially their Moms."

That made sense, Sam thought. His mother had been a kind woman. When she was alive she'd worked as a social worker and taught sign language. She'd been too good for his Dad. But then again, from what Dean said, even though she was only alive for four years of his life, she'd made everyone around her better people. Even Dad. He'd only changed after she died, and Sam was kind of mad about that. That he'd just given up caring, when that was the last thing Mary would want him to do.


	13. Chapter Thirteen – Sweet Dreams are Made of Symbolism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i fUCKING GOOGLED THE SHIT IN THIS DREAM DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE ME FAM

Sam fell asleep at two am. Ash was easy company, and the conversation hardly ever stopped. He was stupidly smart, and Sam thought he was probably learning more on this journey than he ever had at school. Ash produced an almost full notebook and helped Sam with all the maths he'd been struggling with. By nine pm they'd run out of space, equations and diagrams covering the four pages that had been left and the conversation had changed subjects.

Ash was something of a conspiracy theorist, even if he didn't believe most of them he knew all the conspiracy theories behind the twin towers and John Franklin Kennedy's assassination. Sam spent five minutes laughing at the 'jet fuel can't melt steel beams' theory, and Ash spent twenty ranting minutes going through all the other ways that the planes would have damaged the towers.

Ash dozed off before Sam, hugging his bag to his chest and sleeping with his head back, mouth open but silent, almost looking dead. Sam fell asleep staring out the window at the lights of the towns and cities as they passed them by, and occasionally, when they were visible, the stars. He couldn't remember when he fell asleep but he remembered dreaming.

He was on a train, but Ash wasn't there. Where was he? What was going on?

He looked out of the window, there was desert outside, stretching for miles. So far that the horizon was tinged with orange. He thought that maybe he saw buildings in the distance but couldn't be sure. They were moving, or maybe they weren't, he couldn't tell, it probably didn't matter. Maybe it was a mirage? Was that what those were called?

He was sat down, in a window seat, but it wasn't the window seat he'd fallen to sleep in, it wasn't even the same train, or at least he didn't think it was. He couldn’t tell, everything was far away and all too close at the same time. It was like a bad trip. There was a piano outside, or an accordion, or something else equally abnormal, lying in the desert. How the fuck did that get there? Then, in the blink of an eye, the desert was gone, and there was a house outside. A man and a child were in the garden, and the man struck the child, hitting him in the face and sending him sprawling to the ground. Sam wanted to help, tried to smash the window, but it wouldn't give, his knuckles came away deformed but not bloody, the glass was like rubber and metal at the same time. And then again the scene was gone and Sam was getting off the train into a room set up for a baby shower (whose?) and in Sam's hands were cards, three of them, every ace except the club. He wasn't sure what game he was playing but he placed the three cards face down on the table in the middle of the room.

But then there was sun in his eyes and Ash was shaking him awake and telling him to 'wake the fuck up, we're in LA,  _ bitchbaby _ '.

He was still yawning as they got off the train. He was too tired to even lift his suitcase up as they stepped onto the platform and it fell from the door, there was a good three inch gap between the train and the platform and the part of the case that hit the solid edge of the pavement dented. He cursed himself and Ash for keeping him up so late. Ash himself just laughed and told him to get used to it, college wasn't gonna let him sleep easy. Ash was just as energetic as he'd been last night, and Sam suspected that two am was child's play for him. He also suspected Ash to have downed two energy drinks before even waking Sam up, and one more when he'd given Sam one.

"My bus is gonna be here in like, eight minutes, so I gotta go. Which college you headed to anyway?"

"Uh, Stanford." Sam yawned and winced at the pain in his nose when he did so.

"Damn. That's a pretty long way away, you got a bus or something." Sam hadn't really thought this far ahead, and he really wasn't sure what he was planning on doing.

"Yeah." He lied. Ash had a bus to catch, he didn't want to delay him. "In, uh, half an hour."

"Okay." Ash nodded. "Well I guess this is it. Nice meeting you, man. You ever need me, just come looking." He grinned, holding out a thin hand. Sam smiled in return, trying to make it look real when his stomach was churning at the thought of being stranded here alone with no obvious way of getting to Stanford.

"Will do. Bye." Sam bid him, and then Ash was walking off the platform and out of his life. Sam watched him go and felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He blinked them away and pulled out his phone. His maps app informed him that it was a five day walk to Stanford and that there were no direct buses, and with only fifty dollars and a growling stomach he was not at all sure he could get there via bus anyway. But worse that that was the red light flashing above the screen and the fact that he had just fifteen percent left on his battery.

He really needed a piss. Worrying about his transport could wait. He found the bathroom and relieved himself immediately. There was nobody else in there, so he scrutinized his face in a mirror for a few minutes, his nose was swollen and red, and his eyes were rimmed with the same colour, the bruises under them a bright purple blue. He splashed cold water onto his face in an attempt to clean it and possibly get rid of some of the colour, and then shrugged and pulled his toothbrush and paste from his suitcase. After a moment’s thought he pulled out deodorant and a new shirt as well. After he'd freshened up he felt better, but hungry. It might have been just past six in the morning but he'd eaten just a bar of chocolate and half a bag of chips the night before - or rather, earlier that morning.

The street outside the station was mainly empty, and the few people that were there were yawning. The early morning sun was deceiving in its brightness and Sam shivered. He did up the zip on his hoodie to his neck, pulled the hood up over his head, and shoved his free hand into his pocket as an attempt for some warmth.

The nearest open fast food place was quite a way away. The street was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional car, the wheels of his suitcase, and few birds chirping from the lines of trees either side of the road. He was tired still, and though he would have normally expected the brisk air to wake him up, it didn't seem to want to. Everything was lazy and lit with the orange of the early morning sun.

The fast food place, when he found one, was lit with both the early morning sun and harsh, artificial lights. There was a tired, dejected looking middle aged woman at the counter and nobody else in sight, though voices and clanging could be heard from the kitchen.

"Good morning, what can I get you?" The woman asked, trying and failing to replicate the normal customer service cheerfulness.

"Uh, a large cheeseburger meal, please. And just water, thanks."

He handed over the seven dollars and the woman disappeared into the kitchen. She came out followed by a teenage boy just slightly younger than Sam and almost a foot shorter. The kid's face was red with acne and one of his eyes was ringed with blue black bruising. He barely glanced at Sam before shovelling fries into a cardboard container. The woman grabbed an already made cheeseburger from the rack and Sam tried not to think about how long it had been sat there; he really did not like fast food. He took the bag handed to him and thanked them both with the most genuine smile he could muster.

He then stepped outside and pulled the burger from the bag. He walked back towards the station, hoping there to be a taxi there that could take him to Stanford. He ate the burger in only six bites and practically inhaled the fries, the water was gone in less than a minute. There were two taxis outside the station, and he hurried to one and knocked on the window. A pot-bellied, middle aged man with the beginnings of a greying beard wound it down and smiled at him weakly, it was clear that being a taxi driver wasn't his dream job.

"Uh, hi." Sam grinned nervously. "I was wondering; how much would a ride to Stanford cost?"

The man snorted and Sam's stomach churned. "Kid, I ain't good with calculations but I can tell you that a drive that far'd be over a thousand bucks, 'n’ I'm guessing you ain't got that kinda money."

"Oh." Sam murmured. "No, I don't. Thanks anyway."

Fuck. That wasn't good.


	14. Chapter Fourteen – These Goddamn Hitchhikers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lil pov switcheroo bc bobby's a babe and sam's being emo enough to be kylo ren rn

Bobby Singer was a veteran of the US Marines and a pretty fucking unlucky man if he said so himself. His wife had been murdered when he was thirty by some sicko dressed in her own clothes (who Bobby had then stabbed in the stomach and left to bleed out on the kitchen floor as he cradled his dying wife and told her to wait just a minute longer for the ambulance. It hadn't come in time for her, but the sick son of a bitch had lived and he'd never forgiven himself for that), and one of his legs had been blown to smithereens by an IED. He was, to say the least, cautious. Currently working as a lorry driver in and around LA, the caution came in handy.

All this being said, when he saw the lanky boy, drenched in sweat and dragging his suitcase along the side of the interstate, he took pity. He watched the kid for probably two miles, him stuck in a steady stream of traffic because of some accident, the boy dragging his feet and squinting against the harsh glare of the midday sun. He kept watching until he couldn't handle it. He wound down the window fully and poked his head out, already feeling the sun heating his head even from under his cap.

"Hey, kid!" He barked. The boy continued to drag himself forwards, practically panting. "Boy, I swear on my life if you make me regret this I'm taking you down." He muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "Suitcase boy, get here."

The kid looked around blearily.

"Yeah, that's right kid, you. C'mere."

His eyes settled on Bobby and he looked him up and down, but sure enough he came up to the window of the truck. At this proximity Bobby could see the painful redness and swelling to his nose that was definitely a break, and the bruises under his eyes that were fresh and purple.

"Can I help you?" He rasped warily. Bobby winced, his voice was like sandpaper.

"I was thinking more on the lines that I could help you."

The kid's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Where y'headed?"

"Stanford." He answered, distrust evident in his eyes.

Bobby felt the surprise lift his eyebrows about ten feet above his head. "And you think you can walk that far?"

The boy shrugged. "Don't have another choice."

"Idjit. Alright listen, I'm delivering to San Fran, I could drop you off on the way if you want?"

The boy hesitated. "I don't -"

"Kid, it's a yes or no question."

"Yes." The boy blurted out.

Bobby allowed a gruff smile to grace his lips and nodded towards the passenger side. "Get in then."

"What about my, uh?" He gestured to the suitcase.

"Right, come with me." Bobby nodded. He hopped out of the lorry and it was only then that he realised just how tall this kid was. "Damn son, you grown in a lab or somethin'?" He muttered. The boy flushed without replying and followed Bobby to the container.

"Belt up." Bobby instructed when they were both in the lorry. The boy did as instructed. Bobby nodded to himself and moved them forwards. The traffic seemed to be moving slightly quicker, but still only at a snails pace. "I'm Bobby."

"Sam."

"Well, Sam. You mind if I put the radio on?"

"No." Bobby took the kid's short sentences as both distrust and reluctance to use his dry throat. He'd make sure they found somewhere to buy a drink along the way. Without looking away from the road, despite it still being slow moving traffic, he turned the radio on and raised the volume. It was presumably a rock station, playing Led Zeppelin: Black Dog. He looked to Sam to gage his reaction to the music and was pleasantly surprised to find him smiling softly.

"Y'like Zeppelin?" He asked.

"Yeah." The boy answered, nodding. "My, uh, my brother's favourite band."

Bobby nodded in approval. "Good taste."

Sam hummed in response.

"How long you been walking?" Bobby asked carefully, not wanting to hit a nerve.

Sam shrugged. "Two days? I think?"

Bobby whistled, impressed, and they lapsed into silence. The traffic went on for probably three miles before they reached the cause; some poor bastard in a white Mini Cooper had tried something stupid and ended up wrapped around the bumper of a Mustang. As they passed Bobby glanced out the window at the crash, when he saw the splattering of red on the white and the man sitting on the back of the ambulance with a bandage over half of his face and his arm in a sling he really wished he hadn't.

He turned the music up and glanced at Sam to make sure he wasn't throwing up at the sight but the kid was fast asleep, head back, mouth slightly open. Bobby allowed himself a small smile, the boy was probably exhausted from walking for however long he had been.

They reached a motel just as the sun hid behind the horizon. Bobby hopped out of the van, still slightly unnerved at not being able to feel his left leg on the ground, even after almost thirty years. He grabbed his backpack from under his seat, packing light, as usual. He limped over to Sam's side and opened the door, hesitating when the boy was still asleep.

"Sam?" Bobby tried, not wanting to yell and scare the kid and not sure if it was a good idea to shake him awake. Thankfully he woke before Bobby had to call again.

"Yeah?" He rasped groggily.

"We're gonna sleep here for the night, alright?"

Sam nodded and jumped from the van, rubbing his eyes and studying the motel.

"Days Inn." He read. "Can I grab my suitcase?"

Bobby nodded and led him to the back of the lorry, once his suitcase was retrieved they locked the van and headed inside. The lady behind the desk eyed Bobby cautiously as he asked for two rooms for him and his 'nephew Sammy' but didn't complain or refuse them when she was given valid ID.

Bobby nodded to the kid, threw him his key, and locked himself in his room. He dumped his bag beside his bed and sat down with a huff. He rolled his left trouser leg up and unfastened the prosthetic. He pulled it off gently and leaned it against the bedside table for the morning, and then pulled off the sock and threw it onto the bag. His trousers came off next, then the sock on his right foot, and he lay down in the reasonably comfortable bed and fell asleep. 


	15. Chapter Fifteen – Sometimes Before It Gets Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yes the fucking chapter title is a fob song no i do not care and i am sorry

The first thing Sam did once he got into the motel was shower.

Well, no, the first thing he did was drop his bag beside the bed and shove the chocolate on the pillow into his mouth with a happy groan. Then grabbed shampoo and his towel from his suitcase, stripped (once he'd made sure the door was locked and the curtains drawn) and made a beeline for the bathroom.

Oh dear God in heaven was he thirsty. He cupped his hands under the tap and drank from them for a minute straight without breathing. Only when his head started swimming did he pause for breath.

He turned the shower on and the head immediately came to life. He smiled slightly, the water pressure here seemed better than it was at home. The smile fell. There was a thought he didn't want to be thinking. Home. Did he even have one anymore? He couldn't go back to John, that was pretty damn sure. Panic arose and closed his throat as he thought about what might happen if he couldn't stay with Gabriel, or if Gabriel didn't want him. He could stay with Dean, he supposed. But how the hell was he getting there, he had fifty dollars and enough clean clothes for a week, two weeks max. And Dean would hardly be able to support him. He had barely made it out of high school because he couldn't be fucked, and sure he knew his way around an engine, and Cas was doing his thing with the bees or whatnot. But there was no way they'd be able to afford to feed them all and pay the rent.

The panic gripped his chest with ice cold tendrils. They forced ice into his bloodstream and dragged him to his knees on the floor. He didn't know when the tears started, or when he'd started whimpering. The thoughts ran through his head, too loud for him to think, pushing any positive or rational thoughts from his mind. Oh God, he had nowhere to stay. He was homeless. Nobody would want him. He had nowhere if Gabriel wouldn't take him.

Heat travelled down his arm and he forced his eyes open in surprise to discover that he'd been clawing at it enough to break the skin and the heat was a slow trickle of blood. The sight grounded him slightly and loosened the panic's grip on him. He stood up on unsteady feet and leaned on the sink. The person in the mirror stared at him with red rimmed eyes to match his angrily red nose and chapped lips. His hair was greasy and tangled and his skin was pale, his stubble was uneven and made him look skinny and tired. He watched as the steam built up and obscured the reflection from view and counted his breaths, slowing them down and waiting for his heart to stop pounding. When he could safely remove his hands from the basin he did, and stepped into the shower. The water beat down on him and he allowed himself this moment to stand there and relax.

He uncapped the shampoo and lathered his hair and body with it. It stung when it reached the cuts on his arms and took the blood with it when he rinsed them. He turned his head into the stream and immediately away again. The water hit his nose like pins and burned.

He ran his fingers through his hair, brushing out the knots and tangles as he watched the bubbles drain from the shower until the water ran clear. He turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, then just stood there. He let himself drip dry for as long as the steam took to clear on the mirror. The person in the mirror resembled a drowned dog. His eyes were no longer red, his lips not visibly chapped.

He realised he was shivering and grabbed his towel, wrapping it around himself without feeling the cold. He towelled off his damp hair and shuffled back into the other room, dropping the towel on the table on the way to the bed. He turned the light off and dropped down onto the bed heavily, pulling the blankets over him once he was lying.

He closed his eyes and slipped into blissful darkness. He slept without dreaming and woke feeling well rested and heavy.

A knock came on his door. He blinked, not sure how long he'd been lying there.

"Minute." He called. He pulled himself up with a grunt and winced at his aching muscles. He grabbed underwear and a pair of pants from the suitcase and pulled them on hastily. "Who 's it?"

"Bobby."

His legs protested as he stood up, and his back clicked when he rolled his shoulders. He whimpered slightly as he limped to the door, all of his muscles regretting starting this journey at all.

"Hi." He nodded weakly.

Bobby nodded in return. "I'm grabbing breakfast, then I'm leaving. You still coming with?"

"Uh, if that's not a problem."

"'Course not." Bobby shrugged. "You got any problems with Burger King?"

' _ Hundreds _ ', Sam thought. "No, I'll eat whatever's biggest and cheapest."

Bobby nodded and left without saying goodbye.

Sam trusted Bobby, it was a gut instinct. He was gruff and quiet, didn't push for information, seemed to want to help without getting too involved in Sam's problems. He realised it had been a ballsy move trusting a stranger enough to get into their van, but he had been pretty desperate, and Bobby wasn't particularly threatening. As well as giving off a kind air he was a large, short man with something wrong with his leg and Sam could probably take him in a tussle. The tattoo on his forearm didn't escape him, it was the same as John's, ex-marine. Sam didn't doubt that he could probably kill him in seventy different ways with his bare hands, but he doubted that he would.

He pulled a t-shirt over his head with a pained grunt. Fuck did he hurt. He dug around in his bag, retrieved his toothbrush and staggered into the bathroom. The bags under his eyes were making themselves ever more prominent, and either he was paler or his nose was two shades brighter. He ran a hand through his unruly hair to tidy it and brushed the stale taste from his mouth. After spraying himself with deodorant he threw everything back into his bag and lay down on the bed with a sigh.

He must've fallen asleep, because the next thing he remembered was hearing a knock on the door again.

"Y'ready to go?" Bobby asked upon Sam answering the door.

"Yeah, let me just grab my bag."

"Alright, I'll check us out. Shove your stuff in the back and I'll be out in a minute." Bobby instructed, throwing Sam the keys to the van and disappearing.

The suitcase was in the back of the van and they were climbing in within ten minutes. Bobby handed Sam a paper bag and Sam's mouth watered at the aroma that was released when he opened it. Health be _ damned _ . He was way too hungry to care what his skin or even arteries would look like after this trip.

"Strap yourself in first, boy." Bobby warned gruffly. "I ain't gonna be responsible if you go out that window."

Sam pulled his seatbelt over him as fast as it would allow, impatient. The moment he was strapped in he practically inhaled the fries. From the looks of things Bobby had taken his words to heart, or at least the 'biggest' part.

"We'll be in San Jose in 'bout an hour. You want me to drop you off outside the college?"

"Uh, yeah." Sam nodded, some of the panic from last night creeping back. He glanced at Bobby's wristwatch, it was roughly half past nine. It was a Sunday, Sam had no idea of Gabriel's schedule on a Sunday but he imagined he'd be outside at some point at least. The panic sank in even more; fuck, he had no idea whatsoever what building Gabriel lived in.

"Y'alright?" Bobby asked. Sam looked up and met his eyes. He nodded, not trusting himself not to squeak in his answer. He raised a hand to turn the radio on, and then lowered it, remembering that that would probably be rude. "No country shit." Bobby told him. Sam was confused for a second, but then understood. He turned the radio on and a familiar song came on. He smiled slightly when he realised what it was; Animal, by Def Leppard. Dean used to listen to it when he was stressed. Sam felt an ache in his chest, he missed Dean. He promised himself he would call his brother once he got to Gabriel and could charge his phone. But he had to get to Gabriel first.


	16. Chapter Sixteen – Face to Face, or, well, Face to Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which gabriel's fuckin short and fuckin adorable

This was hopeless. Sam sighed and glanced at his watch. It was close to twelve and nobody even remotely matching Gabriel's description of himself had walked past. Or maybe they had, and Sam had just missed him in the crowd.

He was sat on the green at the front of the school, somewhat managing to fit in with the few college students lounging around studying or smoking, despite the suitcase and lack of books.   
He'd been there for over an hour when someone finally approached him. He wasn't surprised, people had been giving him strange looks since he'd sat down. When the redheaded girl came to him he sighed and made to get up, sure she was gonna tell him to fuck off.

"No, no, don't get up." She smiled down at him. He almost let out a sigh of relief, in truth the only thing stopping him from crying was the thought of seeing Gabriel. If that possibility was taken away? He wasn't sure he would be able to cope, all the tears he'd been wanting to shed would fall without him being able to stop. The redhead sat down next to him, quiet, seemingly content to just watch people pass. Sam found himself watching her. Her red hair was short and wavy, slightly messy, as if she'd been running her hands through it. She wore a thin, grass green hoodie and tight, maroon jeans with a pair of well worn, lime converses. The black backpack she carried with her bore small badges on the smallest pocket; a rainbow, the Deathly Hallows symbol, and one covered in binary code.

"So, who we looking for?" She asked casually, not taking her eyes off the crowd.

Sam was glad she wasn't looking at him then, because he blushed bright pink as he answered.

"Uh, he's five eight, chestnut hair, hazel eyes, overbite."

The girl turned towards him, eyebrows raised. Her eyes fixed their stare on his nose, he could feel it. "You mean - oh my God!" She gaped. Her eyes lit with shock and surprise. "You mean Gabriel?"

Sam nodded and bit his lip. His heart did a strange, confused spin in his chest; like a dog chasing it's tail.

"Holy shit, this is incredible! I knew the bastard didn't get into a fight!" She exclaimed, gleeful. Part of Sam was grateful she was taking this so well, another part was worried what would happen next. "Oh my gosh! I have to see you meet, this is gonna be adorable!" She cackled. Sam felt a grin pull at his cheeks. "I'm Charlie." She held out a hand.

He took it, grin widening. "Sam."

"Well, Sam. Gabriel's working at the moment; I'll take you there."

Sam allowed her to pull him up, or at least try. She was like an excited puppy, dragging him around deeper into the maze that was the campus until they came to a stop outside the Russo Café. It was part of a three story building, with round tables outside shaded by umbrellas and a row of palm trees.

"Alright, in you go!" Charlie smirked, amused, gesturing flamboyantly to the café.

Sam gulped. He felt his heart try to escape his throat as he spotted a head of golden hair through the window. His eyes locked on to the person it belonged to and his heart stopped trying to escape, stopped trying to do anything. Gabriel was grinning and nodding at a customer, his eyes were bright and brown and his nose was the same shade of swollen red as Sam's and his hair was falling slightly into his face so he reached up to push it back behind his ear and dear fucking _ God _ __ he was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen. Something in his heart sparked and he felt warm and safe and - and _ home _ . God it had been a long time since he'd felt at home.

It didn't take any more prompting from Charlie for him to walk, slightly dazed, into the shop and stand in line behind a head of green hair almost a foot shorter than him.

Gabriel was talking to the customer, making casual conversation and joking about how much sweet talking the machine took before it would even start in the mornings. His mouth was fixed in a permanent expression of mirth and he put his entire body into his speech. Then he bid the woman goodbye and there was nobody between him and Sam. He grinned up at him and Sam's heart stopped once again - he wasn't sure it had even started in the first place.

"What can I get you?" He asked, one hand on the register, the other on the bar, just inches away from Sam.

"H-Hello."

Well fuck, that had to be the most underwhelming introduction to someone's soulmate that had ever happened. Even God was probably laughing at him right now. He had no idea what he'd meant to say, any knowledge he'd previously had on how to string words together to form anything remotely resembling a sentence had been completely banished from his mind the minute he'd seen Gabriel through the window.

He was vaguely aware of his face turning a rather unattractive shade of crimson. Gabriel's grin faltered, replaced by confusion. Then as soon as the emotion appeared it left, his jaw dropped and his eyes became dinner plates of incredulous gold.

"Holy fuck." He whispered. "Is it? Sam? Is that you kiddo?"

Sam nodded, he thought he was smiling, but he couldn't be sure. He was numb.

Or not. His cheek was aflame, and so was his mouth. The fire moved from his cheek to the back of his neck, sparks flew down his throat. A lightly freckled nose was all he could see, as well as eyes screwed tightly shut.

Gabriel was kissing him.

Gabriel was _ kissing _ __ him.

Sam felt a shiver run through him, from his lips to the very tips of his toes. It jolted his mouth and hands into action and he kissed back like he'd been wanting to for a year. His hands found their grip in Gabriel's hair and held on for dear life and his eyes fluttered closed in ecstasy. The pain in his nose was distant and irrelevant. 

Someone was whistling, a few people were groaning in disgust, fake or otherwise, someone else told them to get a room. Sam didn't care, was barely hearing them. His head was beginning to twirl and he knew he should break the kiss off soon for air but he really did not want to.

Gabriel eventually pulled away, breathing heavily, lips swollen and reddened, hair looking like he'd just walked backwards through a hedge. He grinned at Sam and Sam grinned back.

Outside the window Charlie whooped and clapped and laughed.

"Why are you here? I mean how? I mean - fuck, something happened didn't it?" His hands fluttered over Sam's face, sending electric shivers through him.

"I - after Dad found out about you - I had to get out of there, I'm sorry."

Oh fuck, he was crying. This was really not how he'd imagined this going, not at all.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay, it's fine, I promise. You're here now, you're okay." His hands left Sam's face for a second, but then he'd vaulted the counter and arms were tight around Sam's waist. "Okay, I'm gonna get someone to cover my shift and we're going back to my place. You need Netflix and pizza, trust me, I'm a doctor."

Sam laughed through his tears and clutched tightly at Gabriel's hand when he laced their fingers together. He pulled Sam out through the door and chucked his apron at Charlie.

"You're welcome!" She yelled, laughing, after him.

"Yeah, okay, I'll make sure Gilda hears all about this, and how your flies are undone!" Gabriel quipped in return, grinning back past Sam, but glancing at him as he did. Sam felt slightly overwhelmed, but Gabriel's hand was soft and warm in his and Charlie was yelling at Gabriel for being a jackass and messing with her and oh he was _ so _ lucky she was taking his shift!

People stared at them as they strode back to Gabriel's room, well, Gabriel strode, Sam allowed himself to be pulled along and walked carefully to make sure that he didn't stand on Gabriel's feet. He knew this would be the gossip of the day, from what Gabriel had told Sam he was well known around the campus for his practical jokes. He imagined this was a rather odd sight; the cute prankster, hair dishevelled and sticking up in odd places at the back, dragging a crying Sasquatch of a boy that nobody had seen before, both with red as fuck matching broken noses.

Gabriel's room was on the second floor, he took the stairs two at a time and Sam stumbled up behind him, tripping over the stairs and his own feet a few times as a result of his tear impaired vision. His room, when they reached it, was exactly what Sam had expected, but not. It was large, and split in half by two clashing personalities. Gabriel's side (and Sam could tell it was his side because of the giant Led Zeppelin poster over the bed) was surprisingly neat and organised. A few posters of various bands and movies (Lord of the Rings and Big Hero Six) made the wall his and his desk had a neat pile of books on its right side and a pot of pens to the left as well as an open book propped up against the wall and a few sheets of paper spread out over the middle. His bed was unmade and Sam could see boxes underneath, the sheets were green. The other side of the room, belonging to Gabriel's as yet nameless roommate, looked like a bomb had gone off. A bomb made of paper and clothes. Three empty coffee mugs, stacked, perched precariously on the edge of his desk, his desk itself was covered in papers and a disorganised heap of textbooks and fiction. Surprisingly, his bed was made, the only neat part of his entire room.

Gabriel chuckled. Sam realised he'd been standing in the doorway, staring. He stuttered an apology and scrambled inside the room, fresh tears threatening. Gabriel told him not to worry and shut the door softly before leaning against it and staring blatantly at Sam.

"So, you ever watched Sense8?" Gabriel smirked, eyes running over Sam. It ought to make him feel uncomfortable, but it didn't, he was still slightly numb to feeling anything but emotional exhaustion and love. Sam shook his head. "Oh man, you are gonna love it." Gabriel grinned and bounced forwards, tugging Sam surprisingly gently towards the bed. "You can take your pants off, if you want." Sam stared at him, wide eyed, feeling slightly like a deer in headlights. "You don't have to, God no, I just mean it would be more comfortable. You've been through a lot these past few days Sammy, I'm not tapping that hot ass of yours until you feel at least sixty percent better."

Sam laughed at that, and the tears fell, but they took with them the uncertainty, the doubt that even after his journey and his Dad, Gabriel wouldn't take him in. He shed his jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and clambered into the bed, adjusting one of the pillows behind him and pressing up against the wall so there was room for Gabriel. Gabriel himself slowly removed his tight black trousers, facing away from Sam so he got a perfect view of his ass. Sam's dick twitched in interest as Gabriel lowered the trousers and bent over. He was wearing bright red underwear, and it clung tightly to his ass in the best way. Then he turned towards Sam, smiling brightly and amusedly.

He pulled out a laptop from under the bed and snuggled into the bed on his side next to Sam.

"Spoon me Samwise." Gabriel commanded, yet it sounded like a question, like it would be fine if he said no. He didn't; he shifted into his side and cautiously put a loose arm around Gabriel's waist. Gabriel sighed happily and moved down the bed slightly. He balanced the laptop on the bed in front of them, hanging over the edge just slightly. "You see alright?"

"Yeah." Sam hummed into Gabriel's hair. It smelled like coffee and shampoo. He felt himself relax. Gabriel pulled up Netflix and clicked on the show and Sam was dragged into a world where people were telepathically connected and soulmates were portrayed as normal and acceptable.

He fell asleep halfway through episode five, with the scent of Gabriel's hair comforting him and the show playing at just the right volume.


	17. Chapter Seventeen – DW Phone Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *X-Files theme plays* cas is a horny fuckin teeeenager

Dean was really fucking worried. Like, panic attack worried. He'd called home the night before like he did every Sunday, just to check how Sam was doing and John had answered. John never answered.

Sam was gone. John was drunk and crying and yelling about both of his sons being faggots and Dean just hung up.

He called Sam's mobile five times and every time it went to voicemail. His throat felt too small and his blood was rushing way too fast in his ears. His eyes blurred and his grip tightened on the phone in his hand.

He sat on the edge of the bed in the tiny two room apartment he shared with Cas and tried to stop panicking. Sam was God knows where with God knows who in God knows how much trouble.

Cas came home fifteen minutes later to find Dean still in that position. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and kissed them both twice.

"What's the matter, Dean?"

"Sam won't answer the phone. John says he left but he won't answer his phone - he always answers his phone, Cas, always." Tears spilled from Dean's eyes again and Cas wiped them away with his thumbs, cradling Dean's face with warm hands.

"Hey, hey, Dean. It's late, he probably just went out and forgot his phone."

"But he -" Dean's lip was quivering, Cas stilled it with a kiss, cutting off his words. Cas kissed him gently, softly grounding him. Some of the worry melted away.

"We'll call him in the morning okay? Before school, so he has no excuse not to answer."

Dean had nodded, set his alarm for six and curled up in Cas' arms.

He woke even before the alarm, but lay there until the shrill beeping woke Cas as well. He turned the alarm off and reached down to pull his phone from the charger. He speed dialled Sam's number and held the phone to his ear, chest tightening with every ring. Cas had wrapped an arm around his waist and buried his face in Dean's shoulder away from the slight sunlight trickling through the blinds.

" _ 'S Gabriel, blah blah. The fuck d'you want 'n' how much're you paying? _ " Someone answered.

Dean's throat almost closed. That wasn't Sam.

"Who the fuck is this?" He growled. Cas lifted his head and blinked, worry creasing his brow.

" _ Wha'? Oh shit. Sammy, I picked up your phone by accident. _ " The guy cursed. Dean heard rustling sheets and muffled complaining and then Sam was on the line.

" _ 'S up? _ " He yawned.

"You tell me man. Who the hell was that? Where are you?" Dean demanded, physically shaking in anger and relief.

" _ Fuck, Dean, 'm sorry. _ "

"You bet your ass you are. I called last night and you didn't answer. There better be a fucking brilliant answer for this."

Cas, knowing that Sam was safe, buried his head once again in Dean's shoulder, not willing to participate in drama until it was nine am and he'd had at least one cup of coffee.

" _ Look, I - it's a really long story. _ "

"Oh I have all day." Dean hissed.

" _ Okay, okay. I'm at Stanford. That was my, uh, boyfriend: Gabriel. I'm staying at his; everything's fine Dean. My phone was out of charge last night. Sorry. _ "

Dean took this all in. "Stanford? I thought you still had a month of school left?"

Sam's wince was almost audible. " _ Yeah, I kinda, uh, ran away? _ "

"Ran away?!" Dean exploded. "You ran away to Stanford for some guy?"

" _ No, Dean, it's not like that. Gabriel, he's my - he's my soulmate. _ "

"Your _ what? _ " Well fuck. That was extremely unexpected.

" _ My soulmate, Dean. I had to leave because Dad found out. He took my phone and just - I couldn't stay there and let him treat me like that. _ "

Dean felt his lip quiver. It was bad enough when he'd been the one taking the brunt of John's bigoted idiocy. "Oh Sammy, I'm so sorry. I should've stayed. I should never have left you alone with him."

" _ No! Dean. He was abusing you, you had every right to lead. I was fine until he found out about Gabe. Everything's gonna be fine now. _ " Sam promised, and despite everything Dean believed him.

Dean shut his eyes and nodded, breathing deeply. Sam was fine, Sam was with his soulmate (!), the lucky bastard.

"Wait, so how old is Gabriel?"

" _ Twenty two _ ." Sam answered nervously.

" _ I'm not gonna hurt him, Dean-o, cross my heart and hope to fly off a cliff. _ "

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. Sammy you gotta tell me all about your journey tonight. _ And _ how in the hell you plan on finishing high school."

" _ Will do, will do. I'll call you tonight, okay?  Usual time _ ?"

"Got it." Dean smiled. "Bye bitch."

" _ Later jerk _ ." Dean waited for Sam to hang up and dropped his phone onto the bedside table. It was only half six, he had plenty of time for snuggling with Cas before his boyfriend had to leave for work. He shuffled into a position where Cas was up against his back, curving around him perfectly. The hard line of his dick against his ass.

"So now that we know Sam isn't being murdered how about we celebrate?" Cas murmured, voice scratchy and beautiful with sleep.

"That sounds like a perfect idea." Dean hummed in response.


	18. Chapter Eighteen: And They All Lived Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bc there wasnt enough p o r n in this fic already

One more year. That's how long Sam had to take the online classes for until he was finally finished high school. One year. Part of him was relieved, part annoyed. On the one hand, he'd been scared to death of never being able to finish, never getting into college or law school or any of the things he'd wanted to do. On the other, he had been so close to finishing it all, so damn close. Well, at least he could take his time, he knew most of it anyway, it was basically a year of revision.

The door opened and was then shut gently. "Hey there Samcelot." Gabriel greeted. Sam spun the chair around to face him, a grin forming on his cheeks.

"Hey there." He replied. Gabriel sauntered over to straddle him and kissed him slowly. Sam slipped his hands under his shirt and slid them along the warm skin of his belly to his back.

The kiss broke but Gabriel stayed with his nose touching Sam's. Sam opened his eyes and found Gabriel's. They were the colour of honey and sunlight, flecked with gold and green.

"I'm so glad you came here y'know. I mean despite all the crap that happened to force you. I am so freakin' glad I have you here with me."

Sam flushed. "I-" He couldn't think of anything to say. He felt so warm inside, so wanted, so loved. So instead of speaking he brought Gabriel close to him in a tight hug. He buried his face in his neck and lifted his arms so that his hands wrapped around Gabriel, still under his shirt. Gabriel said nothing, made no snarky remark; he tilted his head to the side and snaked his arms loosely around Sam's neck. Sam breathed in slowly, Gabriel smelled like coffee and grass and hazelnuts.

He placed an open mouthed kiss on the warm skin above his clavicle and both heard and felt Gabriel give a tiny gasp in response. He froze for a moment, heart speeding up in his chest, nerves closing up his throat, dick reacting in a completely different way in his tracksuit bottoms. After swallowing down the nerves he kissed Gabriel again, swirling his tongue against his skin. He tasted like salt and honey and something that was almost citrus. He trailed sloppy kisses up his neck and along the underside of his jaw and when he pulled away Gabriel's eyes had fluttered shut and his lips had parted to allow shaky breaths.

"Erogenous zone much?" Sam murmured, leaning close enough to feel Gabriel's breath on his lips, trying to ignore just how nervous he felt, just how much his heart was pounding.

"Shut up." Gabriel whispered in return, eyes still shut, still breathing heavily.

Sam smirked and pressed his lips to Gabriel's. He ghosted his fingers down his sides and gasped himself when Gabriel's shiver at that made him rub against Sam's crotch. He felt Gabriel grin against his mouth, his heart sped up further. He heard himself moan before he could even stop himself when Gabriel rolled his hips forwards again.

"Erogenous zone much?" Gabriel mocked, biting down softly on Sam's lower lip.

"Y' don't say?" Sam retorted, half laughing, half moaning as Gabriel rolled his hips once more.

Sam's hands clenched onto the soft flesh above his hips and Gabriel ground down hard. Sam could feel his cock through both of their trousers, wanted to feel it through less. He looked down, there was a mouth-watering tent in Gabriel's tan trousers and Sam had pulled his shirt up just enough to be able to see a trail of dark, curly hair leading downwards from his belly button. His own grey trackies had a growing wet spot that made him flush slightly even considering the situation.

"Oh fuck you." Gabriel groaned, "Of course you still gotta be the cutest damn thing alive when I'm planning on fucking you until you can't remember your own name in about ten minutes. Now I feel like the human embodiment of sin, all the terrible things I was thinking of doing to you."

Sam felt his cheeks burn even redder. "I may be cute but I'm sure as hell not opposing to that."

Gabriel grinned wickedly and pressed a hard kiss to Sam's lips. "Good." Was all he said, voice predatory. He removed his arms from around Sam's neck and ran his hands down his chest. Sam shivered and bit back a moan when the wandering hands slipped below his waistband and wrapped around his cock.

"I've imagined this for months." Gabriel whispered into Sam's mouth, hand still.

"M-me too." He admitted, trying to steady his voice and calm his heart.

Gabriel kissed him softly, and began to slowly stroke his cock. Sam gasped, stealing the air from Gabriel's mouth as his hand rolled over the head of his cock and tightened it's grip.

"Leaving me breathless here babe." Gabriel quipped.

"Do you ever shut up?" Sam chuckled.

"Nope."

"Not even if I did this?" Sam moved his hands to the beautiful tent in Gabriel's trousers and unzipped them.

"Not a -" A high pitched whine interrupted Gabriel as Sam's hand found his cock.

"Sorry, what was that?" Sam smirked.

"You bastard." Gabriel moaned. Sam pulled his cock so that it was free of the trousers and bit his lip. What he wouldn't give to have that in his mouth right that second.

"Get off me." He pleaded. Gabriel looked down at him with blown pupils and raised brows. "I wanna - can I suck your dick?"

"Damn, you're the fucking cutest you son of a fuck." Gabriel laughed, already removing himself from Sam's lap. He pulled his trousers, shoes and boxers off as he made his way to the bed and his shirt once he'd sat down. "Now I reckon the best way to do this is with both of us naked." He mused. Sam laughed and stood up. He pulled his own clothes off and strode over to stand between Gabriel's legs, leaning down and catching his lips in a desperate kiss.

His kisses trailed down Gabriel's chest and stomach until the dark hair tickled his chin. He opened his eyes and looked up to catch Gabriel's. Wow, there went his breath. Gabriel was staring down at him, mouth hanging open, attention rapt and cheeks flushed. He kissed a little lower, Gabriel's cock bumped against his chin and Gabriel gasped sharply.

"Sorry." Sam murmured, moving his head to the side.

"If you don't get that in your mouth _ right now _ __ you will be." Gabriel growled. Sam shivered slightly and his tongue slipped out to wet his suddenly dry lips. He wasn't even aware that he'd lifted his hand but it was on Gabriel's cock when he looked down. He sucked the head into his mouth and his eyes flew up when Gabriel let out a groan of pure ecstasy.

"God, Sam." He moaned. "You're fucking perfect."

Sam let his mouth sink lower onto Gabriel's cock and hummed at him to shut up, which worked on the most part because Gabriel choked on his words, whimpered softly and leaned back onto his hands.

Sam was really fucking nervous if he was honest with himself, he'd never done anything even remotely sexual with another person; hell he'd only kissed one person other than Gabriel. He took as much of Gabriel's cock into his mouth as he felt he could without gagging and then pulled off until he was just sucking on the head again. Gabriel's hips bucked slightly and Sam held them down with his free hand. He bobbed his head again, pulled off and licked at the head with the flat of his tongue before taking it into his mouth once more. He built up a rhythm doing this, confidence growing with how vocal Gabriel was about how good it was.

"I gotta - fuck." Gabriel groaned. "Let me fuck you Sam."

Sam's heart stuttered, he pulled off and bit his lip. "I, uh, do you have lube?"

Gabriel nodded. "Top drawer in the - just lie down, I'll get it. He pulled Sam up into a quick kiss and scrambled over to his dresser and started pulling shit out of the top drawer, making a complete mess on the floor, until he triumphantly held up a bottle and a handful of condoms. He frowned slightly and threw back all but two of the condoms, then turned toward Sam with a wild grin. "I said lie down." He ordered.

Sam practically jumped onto the bed and rolled over, just in time for Gabriel to mount him and pin him to the bed, kissing him roughly and passionately. He pulled away and gasped a much needed breath that was let out in a moan when Gabriel's hand found his cock and started to stroke mercilessly. He kissed him once more, softly and in promise, and then his kiss moved to Sam's throat and became a bite.

"You gonna suck my blood?" He laughed. Gabriel hummed in response and continued nipping and sucking.

"Just making sure everyone knows you're mine." He murmured once he'd pulled off, coming up to kiss him again and smile at him. As he was about to kiss lower down Sam noticed a mark on his neck.

"Looks like they'll know you're mine too."

Gabriel tilted his head, confused, for a moment. And then it dawned on him and he grinned. "Looks like they will." He hummed, pleased. He sucked another mark over Sam's heart, and one just under his ribcage, getting lower and lower. One found a home on his hip, and a final one on the inside of his thigh, leaving him breathless and desperate. Gabriel's hands were cool on his thighs as they pushed them up at to the sides until one of his legs was bent and flat on the bed and the other was raised, foot flat on the bed.

"You ready?" Gabriel asked.

"Please." Sam breathed, and then there was the click of a cap opening and then closing and then oh _ fuck _ __ there was a finger in him and it wasn't taking it's time. It was just the right speed, just the right side of uncomfortable. Gabriel didn't waste time in adding another finger and spreading them. Sam wanted desperately to touch himself, but when he tried Gabriel batted his hand away.

"Just wait." He told him. Sam obeyed, returning his hand to his side and fisting it in the duvet.

Gabriel had three fingers inside him and Sam just wanted to be fucked for the love of God this was too much teasing. "Please." He whined. "Please, Gabriel."

"What?" Gabriel asked, Sam could hear the smirk on his voice.

"What the fuck d'you think?" Sam growled, "Fuck me for the love of God."

"If you insist." Gabriel chuckled. He withdrew his fingers and Sam whined at the sudden emptiness. "Wow, you're sending real mixed messages, Sammy."

"Fuck me already, you chatty asshole." He'd barely finished talking when Gabriel pushed into him and oh God he was in heaven.

"Oh fuck, Sam." Gabriel groaned, one hand clutching at Sam's hip, the other searching for Sam's. He gently pulled almost fully out and then thrust back in almost as slow.

"Are you trying to _ kill _ me?" Sam whined, "Because I think I'm gonna die if you don't speed up."

"Now who's chatty?" Gabriel laughed, finding Sam's hand and lacing their fingers together as he sped up.

"Oh fuck, that's more like it." Sam moaned, arching his back slightly, taut skin turning paler, showing off the marks Gabriel had left. "Fuck, Gabriel."

"Yeah, Sam. Oh fuck, yeah."

Sam's hand came up to wrap around himself and this time Gabriel didn't do anything to stop him as he started to jerk himself off. He ached so badly to cum, but he'd be fucked if he let this end too soon. Gabriel thrust in at a different angle and hit that place that had him seeing stars.

" _ Gabriel _ , fuck, right there. Holy shit, yes." He gasped. Gabriel obliged, and almost every thrust had him going deeper and deeper into outer space.

"Fuck, Sam, You're so beautiful." Gabriel moaned. "Most beautiful person in the entire fucking world." He promised.

"You sound drunk." Sam informed him, gasping and arching his back even further.

"You sound like you're being fucked." Gabriel retorted.

"At least I am." Sam attempted to snort in amusement, but Gabriel hit his prostate again and it turned into a gasp of pleasure instead.

"Not for long if you keep being an asshole." Gabriel grumbled.

"What happened to me being beautiful?" Sam pouted.

"You are beautiful; a beautiful asshole." Gabriel punctuated the fact with hard thrusts, hitting Sam's prostate each time.

"Fuck, okay. What if I don't believe you?"

"You want me to convince you?"

"God, please."

Gabriel leaned down and sucked another mark onto Sam's stomach as he fucked hard and fast into him. He was just about to suck a second mark when Sam came with a shaky yell over his stomach and, consequently, Gabriel's chin. Which Gabriel may have squawked in surprise at. Sam got up on his elbows and looked down.

"Oh fuck, oh my God, I am so sorry."

"You've never fucked anyone else, right?" Gabriel asked.

"No, but what -?" He was cut off by a gasp as Gabriel's tongue met his stomach and ran boiling lines through the already hot streaks of cum. "Holy shit."

"Fuck, I think I got some on my nose." Gabriel complained, frowning. "Would you get it off for me?"

"Lick my own cum off your nose? That’s  _ so  _ hot.” Sam hummed sarcastically, grinning.

"Stop complaining and do it before it dries." Gabriel rolled his eyes and dragged himself up the bed and out of Sam, still fully erect. Sam obliged in licking his nose clean, and pressed a small kiss to his lips.

"It's all over your chin." Sam observed. "And I am not licking it."

Gabriel rolled his eyes again and rolled off Sam to root around in Chuck's stuff (Chuck being the messy roommate that apparently fell asleep at the library most of the time) for tissues. He found a handful, wiped his face with them, and threw them in the bin, along with the condom he'd been wearing.

"You want me to blow you?" Sam asked, flushing slightly pink.

"Wouldn't say no." Gabriel shrugged, smirking.

"Then sit down, snarky." Sam laughed, waiting until Gabriel did so to roll off the bed and kneel between his legs. He wasted no time in getting Gabriel's cock into his mouth and getting a rhythm going with both his mouth and his hand.

"Oh fuck, Sam, yes." Gabriel moaned, fisting one hand in Sam's hair. He was looking down at him with something akin to love and desperation in his eyes. "God, your mouth is so fucking amazing. So incredible to kiss, and like this, I mean fuck. This is fucking incredible."

Sam hummed in annoyance, Gabriel talked way too much, and it was always compliments that took Sam's breath away, and he kinda needed his breath right now.

"Oh fuck, you do that one more time and I swear I might just cum." Gabriel warned.

Sam hummed, just slightly, hoping to tease rather than finish. Gabriel let out a groan and pulled on his hair hard, making Sam gasp and moan slightly. That apparently worked as well as humming and there was cum shooting down Sam's throat so fast he thought he might choke. He pulled off, spluttering and trying to swallow it all.

"Wow, that's sexy." Gabriel gasped sarcastically. Sam pushed him back onto the bed and lay diagonally on top of him.

"Asshole." He said, with no malice in the words.

"I love you." Gabriel muttered, grinning.

"I love you too." Sam said in return, smiling happily.


	19. Epilogue: Well They All Lived Happily Until Gabriel’s Cousin Got Involved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> now time for The Great Digestive Scandal of 2016™  
> i fuckin love digestives

Balthazar came to visit two weeks after Sam and Gabe had moved into their new flat. The college had eventually discovered him sleeping in Gabriel’s room (but only when he’d actually applied and put it as his address). They’d thought it better for the two of them to get their own place, with a student discount that the school provided, mainly for Chuck’s sake. Because the college seemed to be under the impression that Chuck actually slept, and that when he did he slept in his own bed. 

Anyway. Balthazar. He arrived unexpectedly on a sunny monday morning, with one suitcase and a smaller bag strapped to the top that rustled suspiciously. He arrived at their door with the excuse that his partner had kicked him out and he’d decided that he needed a holiday to the states. He didn’t apologise for not having warned them about this beforehand, nor did he leave when Gabriel asked him to. He pulled out his pillow and lay himself down on the couch. 

Well then. 

Sam liked Balthazar, when he wasn’t turning up uninvited at their house. He required only minimum upkeep, slept on the couch, and best of all he always seemed to have a biscuit on him. An English biscuit. A proper biscuit. It was only on the fifth day, when he threw a digestive right at Sam’s head as he walked through the door, that Sam actually asked where the fuck they were coming from .

“Come with me.” Balthazar told him. “I have much to show you.” He led Sam to the couch, which was literally two feet away. From beside the couch he pulled the suspicious sounding bag, and placed it between them. “Unzip.” He ordered.

“Come again?” Sam blinked, hoping to God that Balthazar was talking about the bag. 

“Unzip the bag.” Balth rolled his eyes, nudging the bag closer to Sam. Sam did so tentatively, nervous as to what he was going to find. 

His eyebrows raised all the way to fucking Pluto. The bag was literally just filled with packets of digestives. That was it. There had to be twenty odd, and he’d gone through probably two packets in the last five days. 

“What the fuck, Balth.” He said, simply. “Who brings this many packets of cookies on holiday?”

“People who have addictions. And also people who know that they are the best  _ biscuits _ in the bloody world.” Balthazar shrugged. Sam nodded and tilted his mouth downwards in a gesture that said ‘fair point’. That was when Gabriel came in and everything went to shit. 

“Hello beautiful, Zanzibar.” He grinned cheerfully. When he saw the biscuits on the couch, however, he stopped still in his tracks and his face fell. It was akin to a movie character discovering their dead child, just after they thought they’d been safely reunited. “Get those fucking monsters away from me.” He hissed, pointing at the bag accusingly. Balthazar grinned his catlike grin and pulled a digestive from an open packet.

“What, these?” He hummed, questioningly. “Whatever would I do that for?” 

“You fucking know why, you rat bastard.” Gabriel mewled like a trapped kitten. 

“Yes, I do, but Sam doesn’t. I say we tell him.” Balth’s grin widened even more. 

“You do that and I swear to God your firstborn is mine.” Gabriel threatened, backing away until his foot hit the wall.  

“Deal.” Balth nodded, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “So, Sammy. When Gabriel here was just a small boy, he came for a visit to-” He was interrupted by Gabriel throwing himself across the room and slapping his arm around Balth’s mouth.

“We are not having this discussion again because all it’s gonna do is start the  _ argument _ again.” He whined. 

Balthazar bit his arm and Gabriel removed it with a yelp and jumped into Sam’s lap, kicking the digestives off the couch. Sam cringed as they hit the floor and the open packet spilled crumbs and broken biscuit everywhere.

“The argument?” Sam asked, amused. 

Gabriel turned to him with wide, angry eyes, and then looked at Balth, melodramatically fearful. 

“The argument as to whether or not digestives are actually good biscuits.”

“They’re cookies.” Gabriel complained, wrapping his arms around Sam like a child. “Sammy, tell him.”

“No way am I getting involved in this.” Sam laughed, raising his eyebrows at his soulmate. 

“They’re biscuits, you cunt.” Balthazar responded, grabbing a pillow from a nearby chair and throwing it in Gabriel’s general direction. It hit the top of Sam’s head and flipped over the top of the couch. 

“You’re picking that up, you cookie obsessed fuckmonkey.” Gabriel grumbled. 

Balthazar sat down on the edge of the chair and rested one elbow on his crossed knees. He pointed at Gabriel with a finger that told him that trouble was coming.

“Now listen here.” Balthazar began, eyes narrowed playfully. “It is not a fucking cookie. It is a biscuit. It is called a cookie in ‘American’ English, which is not a language.” He delivered his words with a smirk and a calm, serious tone.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, you love your graham crackers.” Gabriel sniggered. 

Flames were visible in Balth’s eyes for a moment. “Don’t you  _ ever _ , ever compare Digestives to graham crackers. Not ever. Graham crackers are fucking satan incarnate. Digestives are the work of God. If God had had a tree of Digestives in the garden and that’s what Eve had eaten I would say fair game to her, because they are the work of God. Digestives are the childhood friend who helped you go get help when you fell over. Digestives are the best friend that sits with you through a bad breakup and brings you ice cream and tissues and watches shitty movies with you. Digestives are a snow day on a test day. They are the fucking best.”

Sam had to agree, maybe Balthazar was exaggerating slightly, but they were still pretty damn good. Gabriel was speechless.

“Anyway, Sam. When Gabriel was about seven or eight, he came to visit for a week.” Gabriel tried to jump out of Sam’s arms but Sam restrained him, hugging him to his chest. “And we went to the beach. We took a picnic with us, and in that picnic was a packet of digestives. Gabriel was pretty damn exhausted, and he fell asleep on the rocks, so me and my brother decided it would be absolutely hilarious if we covered him with digestive crumbs.” Sam glanced at Gabriel, who’s cheeks were about the colour of a digestives packet. “Now what we didn’t think of was that seagulls are a thing that exist, especially on UK beaches.” Sam winced. “And seagulls very much like digestives; and I mean they have every right to, digestives are brilliant.” 

Sam glanced at the crumbs on the floor and in his mind pictured a younger Gabriel getting bombarded by seagulls. It quickly turned into a way of trying to make Gabriel like digestives again (a way that he was ninety percent sure would work). He let Gabriel at Balth in order to stop his train of thought from heading into his pants. Gabriel launched across the room with a very angry yell of ‘Balth you wet cocknoodle’.

Their tussle ended with Balth kneeling on Gabriel’s stomach, the clear victor, and Sam shoving a biscuit into his soulmate’s mouth and retreating to the bathroom before he could get Balth off him. 

“I love you.” He yelled, laughing, through the locked bathroom door. 

“Fuck yourself with a stick of dynamite, babe.” Gabriel yelled in return, through a mouth full of biscuit crumbs.


End file.
